Don't Tell
by Lyssaria
Summary: Delilah Wayne knows how to keep a secret. After all, she was a secret herself. Years after her mother's death, murders with the same MO begin to pop up around the city. Del knows if she doesn't learn to fight back, she's going to die. But being the daughter of the Dark Knight is complicated. With her father unable to train her, she's forced to seek help from a forbidden source.
1. Words unspoken

"Delilah _Wayne_?"

"Are you sure?!"

My mother's hand felt warm around mine, reassuring me with a squeeze. But even now the memory of her is distorted over the bulbous oxygen mask. I like to think she didn't look terrified. That her pale green eyes weren't glossy with the sheen of unshed tears. She flinched at the sound of the voices whispering in the hall, but simply blinked her wet lashes, and gave me the best smile she could manage.

"It'll be alright Baby." She said, pressing her lips to my small fingers.

In the concophany of monitors and intercoms there were words that made my mother seem to jump. Confidential. Secret. "Breach of contract". I realize now, it was the first time anyone outside my parents knew of my identity. That included me too. Not that I understood the gravity of it at the time.

"Okay, Delilah, you ready?"

My mother rose from her chair as a team in blue and green scrubs crossed the threshold. Dr. Elliot tried to offer me a kind smile, but as my bed was being wheeled away, I began to panic. "Mama!" The mask muffled my plea, as my mother's hand slid from mine. "It'll be okay, Honey, you need to relax." A nurse said, keeping me steady. In my struggle the stuffed Batman that was clutched to my chest, slid to the floor. "My Batman!" I twisted my head, just in time to see the man I knew as "Mr. Wayne" bend down and pick it up. I can't say when he arrived on the scene. But knowing what I know now, the memory is ironic as hell.

Someone's hand reached out and traded out my mask.

"Can you count backwards from ten for me?" Dr. Elliot asked, as we arrived to a larger room, full of things that now give me the creeps. I think I made it to eight.

When I first opened my eyes, he was a blur, a broad shouldered shape painted against the wide pane of the window. It was the first time I had seen him so disheveled. Having ditched his coat and tie on an empty chair, he had unevenly rolled up his sleeves. I watched him try to sweep away wayward hair. Still fisted in his hand, was Batman.

"Bruce, you don't have to stay." My mother said, softly, cutting across my vision to hand him a cup of coffee. Their hands seemed to linger together. "I just want to be sure—"

I was caught.

"Someone's awake."

My mother beamed. "How do you feel?"

My chest ached something fierce, but I think I was too hazy to care. "I don't know." Even words didn't feel right. But my response seemed to pull Mr. Wayne's lips into a weak smile. "You'll be fine." he told me, setting Batman by my pillow. My mother sat on the edge of my bed, just as Dr. Elliot poked his head through the door. "Bruce, a word? We've got a paparazzi mob building out front. "

"Sure, Tommy."

He gave my mother's shoulder a squeeze. "Take as much time as you need. The office can wait."

"Thank you…for everything."

The silence could have been filled with a multitude of words. I sometimes wonder what he would have said if he had known it was the last time he'd see my mother alive. But he only nodded, and quietly slid out the door. Only my farther would know, and I've never had the courage to ask.

* * *

><p><strong>Many months earlier…<strong>

* * *

><p>In a modest neighborhood, someone like Bruce Wayne stuck out. "Shall I wait for you, sir?"<p>

"No, Alfred."

Bruce stepped from the car and into the damp October weather. Dry leaves scraped across the concrete, scattering around the trunks of bare branched trees. The streets were eerily quiet. Not at all like the inner city of Gotham. Before he could knock on the door, it sprung open, letting the smell of pumpkin spice and cinnamon, waft into the air.

"Mama! Someone's at the door!" Standing in the door way was a small girl, donned in a black and yellow tutu, with batman plush doll. Her eyes were as blue as his own. For a second he wasn't sure if he could breathe.

"You don't just open the door for someone you don't know!"

Paige Larson immediately filled the space. "Bruce. Come in." The child he had seen only in pictures had changed, but her mother hadn't changed from the day she began working in Wayne Enterprises' PR department. She was a small woman, but what she lacked in size she made up for in personality. And her smiles? They could have melted him. Her dark chestnut hair was caught in a messy bun, but her pale green eyes were as bright as ever.

"Thank you."

The child pounced in front of him. "Who are you?"

"Delilah Bae! Mind your manners…this is my boss, Mr. Wayne ."

Delilah, made a small curtsy, and then zipped around her mother into the living room behind her. "Is that one of my towels?"

"Don't you know a cape when you see one?!"

Paige let out a sound, something caught between a sigh and laugh.

"I'm sorry to make you do a house call." She said at last. "I have the paperwork in the kitchen." Truth was, Bruce never made house calls. They both knew why he was there. Three years ago, this woman had quite literally bumped into his life. Coffee stains, dress shirts and paperwork were involved. And yet somehow with such a chaotic start, something came of it. Of course it would later result in the birth of his daughter. A daughter who was jumping from the love seat to the sofa, with a towel tied around her neck.

"It's quite alright." he said, sliding out of his jacket. "She's got skills." Paige's face flushed, as their daughter, leapt and kicked from one piece of furniture to the next.

"It'd be a miracle if she makes it to ten."

As he followed her to the small open kitchen, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander. Casts of tiny feet. Handprint paintings and toothy smile pictures. These were things you wouldn't find in the decor of Wayne manor. In fact they had decided that it would be safer for Delilah if he didn't publicly claim her at all. But that didn't stop his curiosity. A sudden crash tore away his attention. Delilah stood guiltily over a toppled lamp.

"I think our job is done." The words he realized were short and struggling. Most kids could maintain being so active. But then again, Delilah was not like most kids. The moment Paige placed her thin hands on her hips Delilah made short work of righting the mess. Bruce knew that look. He had gotten that look a time or two. The outcome however, was much different.

"Need the inhaler?" It was then Wayne noticed the array of pill bottles lined on the counter. Each bottle presented a label just for Delilah. The child shook her head. "Time to cool it." Conceding to her mother, the child plopped on the worn out sofa. Clearly it wasn't the first time the furniture had met with Batgirl.

"What do the doctors say?" Bruce asked, nodding to the small pharmacy. Paige's response was to open a cabinet.

"Coffee?"

When he nodded, she continued.

"They're talking about doing a surgery to try and repair the valve in her heart." Paige paused, as if the deep breath she was taking would push back the overwhelming fear he saw written on her face. "Some say it's a good idea. Others say it's an unnecessary risk."

Bruce rescued the mugs from her hands, closing the space between them when the woman shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know if it's the right choice." Her fingers were warm beneath his. "If it comes to that, I'll make some calls." Giving her hand a squeeze he helped himself to the coffee pot.

"Mama? Can you fix this?" Composing herself, Paige turned to her daughter as she presented her with Batman, the seam in his arm had popped, exposing the white cotton underneath. "He was wounded."

"Put him next to the sewing kit. I'll fix him up later."

"Can I carve my pumpkin while I wait?"

"Newspaper, lots of newspaper."

As Delilah skipped away, Bruce handed her a cup. "Strange taste in toys."

"Strange? Or ironic?" Paige frowned into the cup when she realized he gave it to her completely black. "How you drink coffee should be criminal."

His lips twitched. "It's better than wearing it."

"Batman made front page again." Turning to the sound of Delilah's voice, the both peered down at the quilt of newspaper the child had made in the corner of the kitchen. 'Do you have some time tonight? I realize it's already late, but I found something I think you need to see." Eyeing his black and white portrait, Bruce nodded. "That bad?"

Paige, had the oven door open, filling the room with warmth. "You won't be happy about it." She warned, pulling pie from the oven. Between putting it down and burning her hand, she noticed that her small child had made off with the largest butcher knife in the block.

"Yeah, that's a _no_."

"But MOM…"

Bruce's cup made a soft thud on the table. His deft fingers made short work of rolling up his sleeves. "Let me see that knife or else your mother might have a coronary." Paige didn't know what to say, watching as he took the knife from Del, kneeled down and to cut the top of the pumpkin out, revealing a world of pumpkin gore to the child.

"Ewww…that's awesome."

"Del, what do you say?"

"Thank you."

This type of moment wasn't in Bruce Wayne's repertoire of life skills. In truth he was winging it. It was normal for fathers to be sitting on the kitchen floor, smearing pumpkin guts on the pictures of Superman just to make a kid laugh. (But let's be honest defacing Superman felt pretty good too.) But like his daughter, Bruce Wayne was not quite normal.

"I wasn't expecting that." Paige murmured softly, as if her voice could stir the batgirl who was sprawled out on the sofa. "You didn't have to you know…" she amended, eyeing the jack o' lantern. Its smile was lopsided and toothy and be damned if it wasn't covered in bats. One might think that would be the child's idea, but Paige knew better.

"You've got a…' Bruce stilled as Paige reached up and pulled a pumpkin string from his shirt. The second she went to pull her hand away, his fingers wrapped around her wrist. The way he looked at her now made it hard to breathe. "I know." She could feel the words murmuring long before her ears caught them. His palm slid up her arm, to cup her cheek. This side of Bruce Wayne, she knew. "No." She whispered, feeling him pull her face toward his own. The feel of lips was light and sweet, tasting of pie coffee and regret. When she finally freed herself, he let her slip away from him, shaking her head. "Let me get my laptop, so you can see what I've got." Without another word or so much as a look back she slid into the darkness of the living room.

Paige returned quickly, her lip nestled into her teeth as if she could still taste him lingering there. What had been here between them split between fondness, admiration and lust. It filled the void. Neither dared to call it anything more.

Bruce straightened as a computer was set in front of him. "Tell me what _you_ see."

It didn't take long for him to notice that a bit of profit was being skimmed. Different accounts, small amounts, so small that most analysts wouldn't have noticed. "Every one of them is a Santa Prisca account."

"Yeah… So I asked around." Bruce looked away from the screen, raising an eyebrow at her.

She did nothing more than reach for a piece of the newspaper that was on the floor. Apparently she had become immune to his looks as well. "You've seen this right?"

The headline read out in thick bold type **Child Dies, Parents Blame "Zesti Soda"**

"Strangely enough, this, happened just before, the money started to disappear." She shrugged.

"Maybe I'm trying to connect dots that just aren't there. But since we partner with them so often, it has some people asking questions. It's a PR Nightmare."

Bruce took the paper from her, studying the picture of the small boy who could hardly be any older than Del. Strange rashes, vomiting blood. And the parents were certain had something to do with the soft drink.

"What does your gut say?"

Paige shook her head. "It doesn't feel right. Maybe it's just my "mommy mind" freaking out, because some poor kid died horribly. I don't know, but something feels off."

Bruce let the paper fall to the table. "Mentioned this to anyone else?"

"Of course not! I was kind of hoping you would tell me that it's crazy."

But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't. It was a curious coincidence. One he certainly didn't like. And he definitely didn't want her poking around in it.

"Is this everything you have?"

"So far."

"Stop digging. I'll take care of it."

"_Bruce_."

"_Paige_."

"You're not going to tell me anything are you?" she asked crossing her arms in front of her.

"No."

At that moment, not sharing what he knew or thought, seemed the safest option. How could he know that keeping Paige in the dark would have been one of the most regrettable mistakes of his life?


	2. The Darkest Night

**It's a bit on the violent side. Just thought I should warn you. **

* * *

><p>"So what did you ask Santa for?"<p>

Mom's voice rose over the din of the city streets, her hand was tightly around mine, as we marched along the busy sidewalk, reducing the snow and ice beneath our feet to slush.

Mom's breath left her in wispy clouds. "What if Santa can't arrange that?" She asked, stopping to rewrap my scarf around my neck. "Then Santa's a loser." My mother actually snorted.

Knowing what I know now about the jolly old fat man. I feel bad that I called my mom a loser. But the sound of her laugh has stayed with me.

I always thought that the day I met Batman would be one of the best days of my life. After all I was pretty sure that I'd make a great Robin. But I also believed in happily ever after, wishing on stars and the boogie man.

The night I came face to face with Batman, was one of the darkest of my life- and his too.

I learned that wherever Batman was, wickedness was sure to be.

* * *

><p>It took some time to become accustom to the scar that marred her daughter's chest. "It's my battle scar." Thankfully it seemed to bother her, more than it bothered Delilah. "Yes, Ma'm. And you were brave." Their life had fallen into a careful routine. "Not at first, but I did okay." Recovery was done in baby steps, despite how the child wanted to leap and bound forward. Nothing was more heart wrenching or exhausting than having to hold Del back. "Okay, nightgown or Pajama pants and top?" Another long day had finally worn down to an inky black. Paige couldn't wait to crawl in bed. "Nightgown."<p>

"Excellent Choice. Arms up."

"It's a stick up, right?"

"Yep."

"I'll tell Batman!"

"I'm not afraid of no bat." Paige teased, pulling the fabric of the grown down. Indeed there were far greater things to be frightened of.

"Okay, in bed."

Like clock work the child burrowed herself into her blankets.

"Snug as a bug in a rug?"

"Yep."

"Batman?"

Delilah held out the doll for her inspection "Yep."

"Is the night light in the hall on?"

"Yep."

"How much do I love you?"

"More than all the stars."

With that her mother pressed her lips to her cheek.

"Good night, Baby."

"Night."

With that her mother crept through her door.

"_Have you had your Zesti today? If you haven't you might want to put it back. It's alleged that five more deaths may be linked to the beverage. And While Zesti Cola is determined to stand by their product, many store chains are eager to pull the product from their shelves_."

The murmur of the television blurred into silence but just as the girl had slipped off; a piercing scream ripped her from her dreamless sleep. "Mama?" Del shivered, as her feet touched the floor, but when she was answered by the sound of glass shattering, she ran into the hall. "Mama?" Even in the darkness Delilah could make out the glint of the knife in her mother's hand. But she was not alone in the room. She had been cornered into the kitchen by two black shapes. "Run!"

But Del was frozen by the sheer terror that seeped from her mother's command.

"Don't just stand there Idiot! Go get the little runt." When one of the men made a move toward her, Paige reacted, stabbing the closest man to her. Del willed her legs to move, the moment she saw the dark stains hit the kitchen wall. "Jesus Christ you, fucking bitch!"

Racing for the front door she scrambled to twist the deadbolt, just as it clicked back, someone grabbed her by the back of her gown. The child screamed, fighting to hold onto the doorknob as her assailant tried to rip her away. "You're squirmy little shit." He smelled of booze, gunpowder, and something rotten. But somewhere in the struggle, the door had released. Letting her body fall, Delilah hit the ground hard, more aware of the fact that the front door was open than of the pain that buzzed in her elbows. She was so close to freedom, she could see the shadows of the house across the street, feel the cold air touching her face.

But Delilah was moving backwards, he was dragging her by her ankles, "No! Let go! Let go!" She cried, grabbing the bottom of the door.

"You let go!"

"Help! HELP ME!" Not even a light came on in the darkness. Her nails dug into the door, until there was nothing left to hold onto. The door was kicked closed. "Yo! What do you want me to do with this thing?"

"Lock it up or something. Do I have to think of everything?"

"Leave her alone! It's me you want!"

Del's screams, only met the man's hand.

"Pipe down pipsqueak."

But when Del was able to work her lips over, she opened her mouth, and bit down as hard as she could with her tiny teeth. He howled, dropping Delilah to the floor. Her mouth tasted of blood. But as she looked up, she found a barrel of a gun in her line of sight.

"I'm tired of playing games."

Pushed into a closet, Del was locked inside, forced to hear her mother's angry screams. No matter how she pushed or banged on the door, it held fast. When the child felt a metal hanger under her hand, it hit her. Isn't that what mom used when she had gotten locked out of the house? Straightening the hanger, the girl forced it through the doorjamb, so both ends were facing her. She pulled, with all her might, until the wire finally pushed against the latch and released the door, causing her to tumble out.

There was a massive pool of blood soaking the carpet, and there, laying on her side in it's center,was her mother. Just as the girl made it to her feet, the flash of a round lit up the darkness. Her mother's eyes were wide and weeping. Her daughter, her precious little girl was running to her. And there was nothing Paige could do to stop her.

"Fuck, it got loose."

"I thought you locked that door!"

When the first man went for her, she leapt, grabbing the back of the couch, bouncing on to the cushions and rolling to the glass littered floor. Just as he reached for her, Delilah's fingers tightly around a shard of glass. When he lifted her off the floor by her gown, she stabbed. "I'll be the last thing you ever see!"

As she fell, the large bay window imploded, causing Delilah, to roll towards the sofa, trying to protect herself from the shower of new glass.

"It's the Bat!"

Her head snapped up as gunfire rang out. Batman. Crawling on her hands and knees, Del, moved to her mother. The floor was saturated. "Mama!"

Placing both hands on the hole in her mother's side, she pressed, willing with all her might to stop the blood from escaping. "Mama, what do I do?! Tell me what to do!" As the batteranges whizzed by her head, Paige's arm reached up, pressing the girl's head down. "Stay… down."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as one man was launched through the wall, the other, flattened as if he stood even the slightest chance.

"Paige!" his eyes were wide as he crouched to her side.

"Help me save her, please. Please, please PLEASE!" Delilah sobbed when his gloved hand pressed onto of her small ones.

The quiet was broken with the screams of sirens. The flashing lights brought sleepy eyed neighbors shuffling to their front yards, unaware of the terror that had taken place just a short distance away from their beds.

"Keep her safe…and happy...for me."

When the paramedics rushed in, the dark knight rose to his feet, Picking up the bloodied child as if she weighed nothing at all.

"_Wait_! Mama has to come with us. Mama has to come too!"

But he kept going, glass crunching under his booted feet.

"MAMA!" The harder she screamed, the harder he held her, unsure if he was muffling her cries into his shoulder for her…or himself. No one dared to take the child from him until she had been reduced down to hiccups.

"There's nail marks on the front door, bloody foot prints, and a broken closet door with a hanger wire nearby. And he says that the kid was the one who stabbed him in the eye..." Delilah followed the detective's thumb as he motioned to the two who were now in handcuffs. They were slumped against the cop car bloodied and beaten.

"For something so small, she put up a hell of a fight and in her condition…." The officer shook his head.

"We need to get her out of here before the media shows up. They'll have a field day with this."

Delilah's foot jerked as the last piece of glass was removed. Forcing her to look away from the group of officers who seemed to be milling about down to the paramedic who was tending to her dangling feet. "Sorry kiddo, I just have to wrap them up."

"Delilah, do you have any other relatives? Aunts or uncles? Grandparents?"

"Just Mama." she whispered, whipping her nose on the blanket, minding the oxygen tubes that now sat by her nostrils. Now that the adrenaline was wearing thin, her small body was filled with anxiety. Go? Where else could she go? This was all she ever had.

Delilah was the first to notice the sleek black car, but then one by one the officers were craning their necks just to get a look as an elderly gentleman stepped out. Carrying his coat over his arm, he worked his way toward the group. "I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to back away from the tape line."

"I'm here for Miss Delilah." He announced, fishing a white sheet of paper from his breast pocket. The officer who checked it, seemed paler than he did before. He lifted the tape so he could duck easily underneath. "Let him through."

Delilah didn't move as he approached, watching the lights of the cruisers gleam off of his silver hair.

"Miss Delilah, my name is Alfred." he said, crouching in front of her, minding the paramedic's work space. "I work for Mr. Wayne and he would like it very much if you came to stay with us."

"How long do I have to stay?"

"Indefinitely, my dear."


	3. The Truth

**I just wanted to say thank you for the reviews! They're greatly appreciated! I also want to mention, that there's quite a few more characters in this story than the tags would allow. Such as Dick, Bane, and yes, Hush. (Just to name a few.) I hope you guys enjoy the next part of Del's journey. This is probably going to be updated weekly. (Unless I can't help myself and finish chapter 4 tomorrow.)**

**-Lyss**

* * *

><p>Alfred's not a man of many words, but when he opened his mouth, it always seemed to exactly the right thing. Tucked into the back seat, his coat wrapped around me and my bloody night gown, he didn't say much at all, if anything. I can only imagine what kind of memories that night had brought to the forefront of his mind.<p>

The window felt cold against my cheek as I leaned against the glass, watching how the houses begin to lessen the further we drove from Gotham. Soon there were no houses at all, just blackness and the occasional wandering lights from the oncoming traffic. But those too stopped appearing. Or maybe I had fallen asleep, for the next thing I can recall, is feeling as though I might fall when the door gave away, but_ he _was there to catch me. He was always there to catch me.

* * *

><p>One moment, Mama was tucking her in, the next she was waking in a room she hardly recognized. Her breath hitched as reality began to sink in. Her nightmare…was no dream at all. Sitting up in a sea of blankets, dressed in an unfamiliar tee-shirt the child let her eyes adjust to the dusky hue of the room. The kind of color that sets in when the night begins to lose its battle with the day.<p>

Working herself out of the twisted sheets, Delilah slid to the floor, clenching her teeth when her gauze wrapped feet hit the floor harder than expected. Tears automatically welled up in her eyes_. "It's okay to cry, Baby, but count to ten and take a big deep breath" _Some thought it was strange, that Paige had taught her daughter to count when she cried. As if it was something cruel. But it stopped the tears more often than not. _"_One…two… three…" Softly she counted to ten, let her breath out, and took the next step. It still ached, but not nearly as bad. Slowly she crept to the window, barely tall enough to peek out into the fog.

Below her, a Garden of Eden, dotted with fountains and lined with topiaries that seemed to stretch out into the sky. But there on the lawn was a man, leaping, and kicking into the air as if he had some unseen opponent. Surely only ninjas knew how to do that sort of thing. The idea was quickly dismissed, when voices began to rise beyond the walls.

"It's _not_ my fault!"

"Like hell! He told _you_ to keep watch on them!"

"I'd been watching them for weeks! Last night was the _only_ night-"

"Yeah, and look what happened, Jason. You got careless."

It took some courage before Del could manage to wander into the hall. The last time she had gravitated toward raised voices, things were horrific at best. Just at the base of the stairs, two new, exasperated faces. Two boys, both were certainly older than her, but "Dick" was taller and even older than his counterpart. Still not quite sure, Delilah took the stairs a slow step at a time.

"Shut up, Dick. You're starting to sound like Bruce."

"That makes one of us at least."

"Fuck you, it wasn't a compliment."

When the step squeaked in protest under the girl's foot, she froze, clinging to the banister railings for dear life. Both their heads snapped up. For a moment Jason just glowered at her, before storming off, muttering who knows what under his breath.

That left Dick standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Hi."

Del slid down and sat on the step, reminding herself to take a breath as he bound up a couple steps, and sat down himself. "What's your name, Kiddo?"

"Delilah." She murmured, watching the creases form around his dark eyes as his mouth broke into a smile. Twisting toward her, he stretched his hand out to her. His fingers clasped her hand easily. "I'm Dick." As his hand fell away, he stood up. "Want to see something cool?" When the girl nodded, the young man took a breath, and then proceeded to do a series of twisted flips down the stairs. Reaching the bottom he simply straightened himself and took a bow.

The child grinned. "What if you messed up?" She asked. Dick started back up the stairs, but stopped to make a face as if he were actually pondering her question. "It would hurt." He said, reaching out to pull the girl to her feet.

"I'm not going to get in trouble am I?"

"For what?"

"Calling you Dick."

The boom of his laugh was a welcomed sound.

"Hey Alfred, look what I found." The kitchen was full of cloudy light, and the smell of bacon. Alfred was facing the stove, pans sizzling away in front of him. At the small island, Jason sat, letting his fork fall to his plate with a clink.

"Miss Delilah. Well, good morning." Alfred greeted her. "Quite the early bird I see." Dick stared down at the floor rubbing his neck before looking back up. "Yeah…we probably woke her up, sorry."

"You two could have woken the dead." His voice sent a chill up her spine long before the cool air swept in from behind him. Bruce mopped his face with a towel before setting it around his shoulders. Del, immediately went for him. "Mr. Wayne…where's my mom?" A fragile stillness crept into the room, forcing Bruce down on his haunches.

His fingers felt cold against her temple, as they brushed the hair from her face. "Del, your mom was hurt very badly." But of course she knew that.

"Is she okay now?" But she knew the answer; Bruce could see it, as the girl fought to keep her emotions in check, but the tears were already coming. "She's going to be okay, right?" Goddamn it. She was too young for this.

"No, Del."

Her trembling mouth fell letting a sob slip by her lips. Reaching out to her, the small body collapsed into his arms.

"Well, there goes my appetite." Jason grumbled, shoving his plate away.

"Master Jason!"

Bruce didn't even look in his direction. He only made a mental note to deal with it later, as the kid left the room, Dick hot on his heels. Jason had been so full of rage lately; it was starting to leak into everything. He had hoped that making Jason Robin, that he would find discipline. That it would help him, but so far, the kid seemed unreachable. It was certainly a conundrum, but at this moment he couldn't focus on that.

Right now, there was a child sobbing into his Gi. _His_ child. A child who just had her entire world turned upside-down. And to think, he and Paige had thought it was safer this way. The thought was insulting. Unsure of what to do, he rose from the ground. He knew all too well what it had felt like to have all you've ever known ripped from you. He simply held onto her, trading glances with Alfred when she began to softly count. When she reached ten, he could feel the frail ribcage under his arms, expand and then slowly release. It was then he sat her on the edge of the counter.

"I-I can't make-make them stop." She said in hitching notes, smearing her tears with the back of her hands. Only when she lowered her arms did Bruce smudge the tears with his thumb. "That's okay." But in truth he was still taken aback by the amount of self-control she was showing. Was Paige so afraid for the girl's heart that she taught her to try and keep herself from getting too worked up? Or was it something else?

"What's going to happen to me?" She asked between sniffs.

"You're going to stay with me."

"I can't go home?"

Bruce shook his head. "Afraid not. You have to stay with a family member, and the only one you have is your father."

"But I don't have one of those!" she protested. The words cut deeper than Bruce thought they would, but it was the choice he'd made, one he wished now he could have amended so much sooner than right now.

"Yes you do. He just hasn't been in your life like he probably should have been."

Delilah's blue eyes, his eyes, looked down at her bandages.

"Del…I'm your father."

The moment she looked back up at him, all he could see was Paige. She had his eyes, and unfortunately, his ears. But everything was her mother. The shape of her mouth, the small round nose, the color of her dark chestnut hair, and even the "I don't believe you" look she was giving him now, she had certainly gotten that from her mother.

"You can call me Bruce, if you don't want to call me…you know…. You just can't keep calling me 'Mr. Wayne.'"

"Okay, Mr. Wayne- I mean Bruce."

Baby steps. "Now then, you think you could let Alfred take a look at your stitches after breakfast?" When she nodded, he helped her into a chair at the island.

As Bruce left the kitchen, he stopped in the door threshold, simply watching the girl and Alfred. Maybe with some luck, she would manage to be more resilient than he had been. This wouldn't leave her unscathed, but maybe, just maybe…it wouldn't keep her from being the girl he saw right now.

But tragedy was not through with them just yet. Things would get so much worse before they could even begin to get better.


	4. Robin

My first months at Wayne Manor could only be described as tense. If it wasn't my night terrors keeping the house from sleeping at night, it was Bruce and Jason, who now seemed to be at odds with one another on a constant basis. Jason didn't seem to care for my presence much either. It took quite some time before I would finally figure out why. Too much time.

"There we go Miss."

I looked down at my hands as Alfred removed the last stitch. My wounds had healed quickly under his care, but it didn't stop them from leaving the scars behind. "Is Bruce home today?" I asked, flexing my fingers.

"He's already left for the office. We're only left with Master Jason's company I'm afraid."

"Oh, joy."

"Joy, indeed."

I twisted in my seat, looking out into the garden where Jason was crouched on the grass, his back to the kitchen.

"Would you like to request your father's presence at lunch?"

"I-I don't want to bug him." I said, sliding from the stool.

"Very well." He sighed.

Bruce and I had been tip toeing around each other. I think it bothered Alfred more than he would say. I took the chance to slip out to the garden. Jason peered over his shoulder at me, but looked back down the lawn.

"What'cha doing?"

I was immediately shushed. Unperturbed, snuck around him, noticing that there in the grass at a struggling form of a bird. I squatted to the ground beside Jason. Watching the bird awkwardly drag it's wing, it was apparent that something was wrong. Jason had his hand resting on the ground, bird seed piled in his palm, but the bird didn't seem at all interested.

"That mangy stray tom must have gotten a hold of it."

I reached over, and took a pinch of the seed out of Jason's hand, paying no mind to the death look he shot me.

Slithering onto my stomach, I stretched out on the damp grass, letting some of the seed fall on the ground around my hands. The little red breasted creature was unsure at first, but slowly it at its way around my fingers, and when there was nothing left, it cautiously walked into my palms, seeking what I had left.

"Now, how the hell did you do that? Do you know how long I've been out here?" I stifled a laugh as I carefully moved back to my knees. "Mom taught me. She was really good with birds." I offered, watching him stare at me with a tilted head. "I probably shouldn't be holding it though. Put your hands underneath mine."

He hesitated at first, but finally begrudged me. His hands were freezing. I let the robin trade hands, by letting my fingers slide slowly out from under it. I didn't want to make any quick movements; the creature was already terrified enough as it was. "Your mom was a nice lady."

That stunned me. "My mom? You met her?"

"She's been here a few times." He said, rising to his feet, the robin resting in his hands. I must have been making a face.

"What? They didn't tell you?"

I shook my head.

"At first I thought she was just one of Bruce's flings…but I guess not." He shrugged. "Anyway. She was nice to me. Like I said I only met her a few times." Something in his tone was telling me to drop it.

I clamored to my feet, scrambling to get the door to let him in, trying to banish the thoughts about my mother. Why didn't Bruce ever mention it? Or Alfred? "Alfred! Jason found a bird."

"Master Jason found what?" Alfred asked as he walked back into the room.

"A bird."

"A robin." He corrected me. Alfred looked a little miffed to see the bird sitting in Jason's hands. "I see." I could feel like there was something being unsaid here, but there are so many moments like these I never saw the meaning in until so much later. My life happens to be filled with so much irony.

"Think you could help it?"

"I'm not a veterinarian." He stated, but as he looked at us he sighed. "But I shall try."

With some work, Alfred had the bird's wing bandaged. "Nothing looked broken, so I'm sure it'll be ready to fly again no time."

When the sound of the front door reached my ears, I darted for the foyer. I think it was the first time I had ever grabbed Bruce by the hand. "Come see! Come see!" I jabbered, leading him to the kitchen. I don't think I even gave him enough time to get a word in. "Look what Jason found." Jason, who was now sitting on a stool, eyes on the bird and its new antique cage, snorted.

"Huh." Bruce shed off his coat, and set his briefcase down. "How did you manage that?"

"I didn't." Jason pointed at me. "She did. Pipsqueak's a bird whisperer or something."

"Hey!" I saw fit to spit my tongue out at him. "But he _found_ it."

"Yeah, yeah." He started to walk for the door when I cut into his path.

"Forgetting something?"

"What?" He looked over his shoulder. "The bird?"

"Yeah."

"You keep it."

I shook my head. When he stepped to the right so did I. He jived left, I followed. It was definitely pissing him off. "You found it. You should let it go when it's ready." I can't describe what flickered across his face before it twisted into exasperation. He turned, and picked up the cage.

"Happy now?"

"Yup." I then moved out of his way, letting him and the bird hightail it out of the kitchen.

I felt Bruce's hands give my shoulders a squeeze. "A bird whisperer or something…"

In the few weeks that passed, our small feathered friend grew stronger. Jason even started allowing me into his room, but only for a few minutes at a time. After that he'd swiftly kick me out.

"Hey."

I looked up from the feeder, prepared to make a quick exit. "I need you to take care of the feathered thing for a few days." Easing myself to the floor by the cage, I waited for him to elaborate. "Going out of town with Bruce for a few days."

"Can I go?"

"No."

Around that time I was starting to see a pattern. Jason and Bruce were gone quite a bit. Though they never really divulged to me where it was they went, one thing was always a constant, I was never allowed to go with them.

"Who's going to take care of the bird?"

I gave up. "Okay…okay." But when he grabbed his bag and started for the door, I followed. "Alfred said he should be ready to let go soon. So maybe when you get back-"

"Yeah Kid, when I get back."

Alfred caught me at the bottom of the stairs, by putting an arm around my shoulder.

"Keep Alfred company for me." Bruce told me.

"Yes, Sir." With that he patted my cheek, and left.

"Don't forget about the bird, Pipsqueak."

I never did. Even when Jason never came back.

* * *

><p>Sitting at the piano, Delilah piddled with the keys, watching the black suits and skirts mill about the house once again. There weren't many people this time; though there weren't many people for the first wake she had witnessed either. Bruce had returned but he certainly wasn't the same man.<p>

"Hey, Kiddo."

Dick slipped onto the bench beside her. "How are you holding up?"

Del let her fingers slip off the keys, and smoothed the black material of her dress with her hands. "I'm okay." She murmured, watching Bruce and a man named "Clark" exchange words.

"Worried about him, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"He's been acting weird." If weird meant not leaving the house for days, throwing things and yelling at the top of his lungs, then yes, it was weird. Not that he said anything to her. Come to think of it, it was almost as if he was avoiding her.

"I know." He said, giving her a squeeze. "He's just really sad." That was a serious understatement. Laying her fingers over the keys, she mimicked the hands of a pianist. "Alfred's been giving you piano lessons hasn't he?" Dick asked, watching the girls fingers move in the air. "Yeah…"

"He tried that on me once. It didn't work out." He bumped her shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on him, if you will."

"Okay."

"What's that sitting by your foot?" Del's fingers stilled as she reached down to pick up the small black iron cage, revealing the wide eyed robin inside. "Jason found it right before they left…I was kind of hoping he'd be ready to fly by the time they got back." She shrugged. But they didn't come back. Not really.

"I'm sure he will, in his own time." With that Dick slipped from the bench, giving the girl's cheek a pinch, he wandered back into the crowd. However small it might have been.

Del stopped counting the minutes that she sat there. It was easier to tell the passage of time by how the people would leave. Soon, the house was void of quiet whispering that seemed to accompany these functions. The girl's fingers danced on the keys, emitting a trio of notes from the piano. The robin chirped. "Alfred!"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"I'll be going. "

Hearing him speak, Del rushed from the bench. The sound of her shoes, hitting the floor echoed through the empty halls as she ran. "Bruce. Wait!" But Alfred was the only one to be found. How did he keep doing that? How did he keep disappearing so quickly? "Everything alright, Miss?"

Letting her shoulders slump and her breath free, the girl simply nodded. "I just wanted to talk to him, but I guess it can wait." She amended, missing the look that passed across the old butler's face as she turned and went back from where she came. How many times had he seen that look of disappointment on Bruce's face as a child?

Returning to the piano, Del, fiddled with the keys, letting the notes echo throughout the room. As she got ready sit back down, she realized that the base of the grandfather clock had sprung open. The piano was quickly abandoned.

Pulling the hidden door open just a little further, she found nothing but stone stairs leading down into the earth. An old basement maybe? At the piano the robin chirped. Delilah quickly went back for her feathered friend before quietly closing the door behind her.

The walls felt rough and weathered beneath her hand, stranger still with the new scars. The robin was eerily quiet as if it too were trying to hone in on the soft squeaks and chatter she could hear below them. Delilah followed the stairs down, the moment the stairs ended, the girl could feel metal beneath her feet. Suddenly light flooded the darkness, revealing to her an entirely different world.

Computers. Cars. Motorcycles. Weapons. Costumes. Del looked up, watching the small dark bodies above her head. Bats. Thousands of them. Setting the bird cage down by the largest computer she spotted, she immediately moved to the platform, painfully aware how her footsteps echoed throughout the entire cavern. It was almost as if she were trespassing on sacred ground. She walked carefully, eyeing the bat suits. Who knew he had gone through so many? Batgirl. And of course…Robin.

It was nearly four in the morning when Bruce finally returned to the bat cave. But it did not slip his mind that someone else had been there first. It wasn't unusual for Alfred to wait up for him, Delilah was another story. He did not expect to find his small daughter, asleep at his computer, using her arms as pillows. Looking up at the screen he realized she had managed to find her mother's file, but hadn't been able to dig into it very deeply, or had only opted to go through the photos he had of her.

Reaching over her, he backed out of the file, watching as Paige's face disappeared into the screen. From the cage by the chair, the robin twitched. Simply blinking it's small round eyes at him. He had crouched down beside the chair just as Delilah lifted her head. For a long moment, neither said a word. He should have scolded her, but when her small hands reached up, to push the cowl from his face, any words he had planned to say faltered before they could make it from his lips.

"Jason was robin, wasn't he?"

Bruce simply nodded, not expecting the girl to put her arms around his neck.

Below them, the robin chirped, rivaling the chattering bats above their heads. "The robin's bandage came off a little while ago." She said releasing him from her hug and reaching down to show him the cage. "Jason was supposed to let it go…but-"

"I'll help you."

"Thanks, Dad."

* * *

><p><strong>AN **Prepare yourself. Damian is appearing in chapter 5. Mayhem, murder, hell, it's just all out chaos.


	5. Mistaken

**A/N- It's a little later than normal, but it's uh...a lot longer than normal too. It's so long that it made a liar out of me. Damian hasn't made it in just yet. His mother sure did though. It's working that way, I swear. And yes! Drake will be present in the story, however, I'm taking some liberty with the time lines, so he'll be showing up after Damian.**

* * *

><p>In the years that followed, the naïve little thing that stole towels from the linen closet for makeshift capes began to realize that her hero was anything but invincible. Batman often came home beaten, battered and broken. This wasn't a game between good and evil. It was a war, a war that my father often chose to fight alone.<p>

"I'll be eleven soon."

Dad looked up from his cut, but Alfred only held out his hand for the anesthetic that I was holding; he didn't even bother to look up. He knew. I think he was holding his breath.

"Eleven already?" Dad tilted his head back, staring at the bats as they conspired above our heads.

"Wasn't Dick Ten?"

"_Del_..."

"_Dad_." At that I had his eyes on me. Stern…and exhausted.

"We've discussed this."

"No. You _told_ me. We didn't _discuss_ anything." I snipped, aware that Alfred was bristling between us.

"Dick said-"

"I don't care what Dick said. I'm telling you no!"

I slid off the stool, letting it roll back under the table beside me. "You _need _help." I protested, taking advantage of the small silence that worked its way between us. Dad hung his head back, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"You're not ready."

"At this pace, I won't ever be."

"There you are, Sir."

At that Dad swung out of the chair. "Thank you, Alfred." When he finally faced me, I crossed my arms in front of me.

"This isn't some game, Delilah."

I then said something I know I shouldn't have. "When are you going to see that I'm _not_ Jason?" It had been years since Jason's death, and yet for Dad it was still as raw as it was the day it happened. Batman never took on another Robin. It changed us. Dad always kept me close and somehow I always felt so far away.

"I made a promise to your mother, and I'm going to keep it!" He snapped, closing the distance between us. "The answer is no!"

"But-"

"You _do_ have limitations; you're going to have to come to terms with them."

I was on the losing side of this from the minute it began. Most people who have the same heart defects as I do, tend to lead normal, healthy—active lives. But let's face it…for me normal went out the window. Dizzy spells, shortness of breath, high blood pressure, I've even fainted a time or two. But let's not take the chance of sudden heart attack off the table. I think those things were always circling Dad's mind.

"Says who?"

Dad paused, letting my short breathes fill our silence. Even amongst the bat chatter, they seemed so loud. "You're just afraid."

"Del, you can't even catch your breath _right now_." Damn it. My health always sought to make his point.

"I can control it!" I cried, forcing myself to take a deeper breath, but it was already too late.

"Not to break in, but I suspect the guests should be arriving shortly."

With that he pushed me to the stairs. "This _discussion_ is over."

I never brought it up again.

* * *

><p>My father did his damndest to shield me from the world. After all, his world was different than the one I knew with my mother. Once I waded into it, there would be no going back to a normal life. When the tabloids began to leak pictures of me, Dad had no choice but to introduce me into society.<p>

Blackmail. Publicity Stunt. Black Market Baby. Child of the street. Lovechild. Only the last one was close, but they surmised that my mother must have been a young socialite, who was too ashamed to admit she had been caught in the web of the billionaire playboy.

Most of the employees at Wayne Enterprises, assumed that Dad had simply adopted me, seeing as my mother worked so closely with him and there was nowhere else for me to go. After all, it wasn't the first time Wayne had opened his home to a wayward child. Everyone had their own conspiracy theories.

"What are you doing?"

Dad's whisper pulled me from my crouch. "Spying."

"Obviously." He murmured, looking down into the crowd that had gathered just beyond the reach of the stairs. It was a sea of elegant clothing, jewelry and cigars. At times the sound of their voices was broken by a vivacious laugh or smug chuckle.

I dug my fingers into the banister to keep myself from picking off the nail polish. Dad's eyes flicked to my hands.

"Nervous?" Of course he knew my tells. Batman noticed _everything_.

"Yeah…"

"Me too."

"Feeling rusty, huh?" Dad was spending so much time in the bat suit, a bowtie was starting to feel foreign to him. All I can say to that is, thank God for Alfred. When he offered a nod and his hand, I was relived. At least I wasn't in this alone…and neither was he.

"So what do we do?"

"Divide and conquer."

Dad patted my hand when I hesitated. "Just smile and kill them with kindness."

"Now you sound like Mom."

Dad's wide shoulders shrugged beneath his tux. "It works."

I remember wanting so badly to prove to the world that I existed, but at that moment, standing at the top of the stairs amongst a battle of camera flashes and the flood of questions, I suddenly wanted it all to go away. "Smile. It's okay."

Dad's whisper barley reached my ear over the din of chatter and clicking. I was holding his hand tighter and tighter with every step we took, but I did as he said and smiled. It's a strange thing, forcing yourself to smile when you're descending into chaos.

"Bruce! Who is this charming little creature you've been hiding?"

"Is she adopted?"

"Look at those eyes you, Dope."

"How old are you, Sweetheart?"

"Where's her mother?"

With all the small flashes, and the faces peering in, I didn't know where to look or what to do. But when Dad held his hand up, the waves of questions quieted, leaving camera clicks in their wake.

"One at a time please. You guys know how bad I am at remembering questions." And just like that Dad was falling right back into that person he had forgotten, he had the room chuckling at his expense. It was right where he wanted them.

"This is Delilah."

I waved, and let my hand fall to my side.

"She's ten."

"Ten and a half." I corrected him, taking the moment to look up at him.

"Excuse me, ten and a _half_."

"Someone's gotta keep you on your toes." The room was laughing again.

"Bruce! Why all the secrecy?" Dad looked at the reporter, his smile fell from his face. "We've been experiencing some health issues, so it was thought best to keep the excitement down to a minimum."

"This must put a damper on your usual activities."

I was ten, but I wasn't dumb. My dad was something of a playboy, or so he portrayed himself that way. When I fell into his life he finally had a decent excuse not to be plastered on Gotham Noir. Dad was more discreet with that part of his life than the public gave him credit for.

"It's a change, for the better I think."

"So serious! Who knew you had that kind of side. Looks like Gotham's most eligible bachelor is now a package deal."

I watched as a dark haired reporter bent down, letting her blue eyes meet mine. "So Miss Delilah. We know what your dad here does for fun, but what do you like to do?"

I felt Dad's eyes on me, his fingers squeezed gently around my hand. _It's okay_. I squeezed back. "I read quite a bit."

"Bookworm." Dad teased.

"Proud of it." I said giving him the elbow. "But I like playing the piano. And I have gymnastics classes on my good days."

The reporter smiled. "I saw a piano in here, do you think you could play something for us?" When Dad nodded to me, I let my fingers slide from his. "Sure." Slipping through the crowd of curious onlookers, I found Alfred at the piano; he had already pulled the bench back for me.

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore that so many people were watching me. It occurred to me then, that this would be normal for the daughter of Bruce Wayne.

"I hope no one will mind if I play something a bit more modern than classical music."

I closed my eyes and set my fingers on the keys, glad they felt familiar to the pads of my fingertips. And so I played, letting the notes out gently as I kept time in my head.

I had never sung in front of anyone, except Alfred. But once the words from a favorite song began to tumble out, there was no turning back, despite how vulnerable I felt. But sitting there, gently swaying into the rhythm as I played, I realized how singing about a human- one who bleeds when they fall but can still manage to hold the weight of the world – it made me think of Dad. I carried my crescendos, stayed on key and kept my time. When the last note faded from the room, it erupted. As I stood to take my bow, shooting my stunned father the biggest grin I could muster.

As I made my way from the piano, I nodded and accepted the praise as graciously as I could, trying not to flinch when random people would pat me on the back or squeeze my shoulder.

"First birds. Now you sing. Pipsqueak, I think you're turning into Snow White."

_Jason_. I froze, when I turned, there wasn't a familiar face around. But there in the distance a dark haired head seemed to be moving through the crowd. When Dad touched my shoulder, I know I jumped and he definitely felt it. "What's wrong?" He whispered. I tried to smile, tried to pretend that he was whispering something encouraging.

"A little overwhelmed."

"Step into the parlor, and take a second." With that he pressed his lips to my temple and worked his way back into the throng. I made my way to the parlor in a bit of a haze. Only four other people knew about the robin. Dad. Alfred. Jason. Dick. Dick was out on patrol and Jason was dead… right? I watched them lower the casket into the ground myself. Or Dick was here somewhere and he was screwing with me.

I slid into darkness of the parlor, and leaned myself against the first available wall I could claim. For a moment I just closed my eyes and listened to the voices carry throughout the house.

"Chaos out there isn't it?"

I almost mistook the woman for my mother. Her hair was a dark auburn like my mother's. In the faint light that made it through the window I could tell her eyes were green too. But the voice was wrong and so was the shape of her body.

"You are Delilah." She said, bring herself to stand, letting her long elegant gown fall gently as she rose.

"Delilah means delicate. Weak."

I opened my mouth to protest, but she tilted her head at me. "But strange enough for you, variants of your name also means night. In some languages your name would fit a femme fatale." Her smile spread across her face. But it wasn't the kind of smile that made me feel comfortable.

"I believe your mother picked your name very well. She must have known your father's secret."

I didn't balk, even though I wanted to. I simply raised my chin at her.

"You know an awful lot about my name, but you never told me yours." My words came out evenly to my relief. But the nameless woman laughed at me. It was deep melodic kind of sound. "A bold little flower, aren't you?"

"I am Talia." She said, moving too far into my personal space.

I felt her fingernails dig into my chin, when she lifted it. "You have my Beloved's eyes."

I moved to smack her hand away, but she dropped it faster than I could move. "The rumors are true I see." With that she turned away from me.

"In that case, I have left you a gift. Perhaps one day you will be able to use it." At that moment I wasn't processing her words; I was too busy thinking about how I would exit the room.

"Delilah and Damian. A pity I never met your mother." She said, looking down at her nails, but her eyes fell back to me.

"But for you, perhaps that was for the best. Do tell my Beloved that I said hello." I turned to hear the door opening, thankful that the light was spilling across the darkness.

"You alright?"

Dad. I turned back, and there was nothing, just an open window. I took another breath and nodded. "Yeah, just trying to get some air."

When the house finally quieted, Dad eased himself on the steps beside me. "Well, we survived."

I was pulling the pearls out of my hair. "Dad…who is Talia?" I looked down at the pearl pile I had made and when I looked up, Dad had his 'Bat face' going.

"Where did you hear that name?" he asked. I was pulling the last pearl from my hair, when he grabbed my arm. "Delilah. Where?"

"Here. She was here. When I went to the parlor, she was there."

"What did she say to you?"

I shrugged. "She talked about the meaning of my name, and that Mom must have known your secret." Dad was rubbing his face with his hands. "And tell my Beloved I said hello" I mimicked.

"I wanted to heave on her overpriced shoes."

"She's over the top." He muttered.

"Old fling gone wrong?" I asked

"You could say that."

"Dad. You need to start teaching me _something_."

"Del…not again. Not tonight."

I shook my head. "No. It's not about _that_. She got too close to me. I don't want anyone getting that close to me again."

At this Dad just looked at me, for a long moment he didn't say anything, he just slid his arm around me.

"Now that we can work on."

I didn't tell him about the sword I found on my bed, nor did I tell him about my Jason encounter. I just didn't know how. Instead I had him explain to me just who Talia was.

* * *

><p>Like most mornings, Del was up before the light began to break. The asphalt was waiting in its usual place, stretched out and winding way through the large homes that dotted the coastal road. It was just a simple 3 mile round trip run. It was the kind of morning that made the breath leave the body in wispy clouds, but Del was damp with sweat. Beside her, Jax, the Doberman panted, his tags jingling together as he loped. For once it was quiet. There hadn't been a single reporter or squirrel all morning.<p>

Dick was sprawled on the porch steps as Delilah began to walk the driveway. She let Jax go, who promptly went to stick a cold nose in his face. "Zesti cola? Can't you drink coffee or tea like normal people?" As soon as he had Jax in a whimpering pile of 'pet me' he looked up.

"What's this normal you speak of?" He asked, rubbing dog's belly as he rose from the stairs. But Dick's lopsided smile faltered, as Del, bent down and put her hands on her knees.

"Feeling dizzy?" When she nodded, he gave her an arm to steady herself on. "Pushed yourself a little too hard this morning, huh?"

When the world was still again, she let him go. "It's no big deal."

"Right…"

"It's already gone." She insisted, popping up the stairs, Jax immediately in her wake. "So you're coming to the next meet, right?"

"Only if the hot moms are there."

"You're so gross."

Delilah wasn't sure what she would do without Dick. He was her bit of normal in a not-so-normal life. When she was six, he got her started in gymnastics, sneaking her to classes himself. Though it wouldn't be stretching to the truth to say he liked the attention he got. After all, he was the only young man sitting in the parents section.

When she needed someone to talk to when her dad was being a royal jerk, she went to Dick. When she just needed to sit around and eat Chinese and watch terrible movies…Dick was the guy.

"So…"

"I hate it when you start out your sentences like that."

"Why?"

"Because it means you have a really stupid idea, and you're going to try palm it off on me." He held up his hand as they crossed into the foyer. "But go ahead."

"Apparently, you can get your motorcycle license at fourteen." Delilah started, her lips breaking into a smile when he began to catch on to her master plan.

"Oh no."

"I've never ridden one."

"No, no. I know where this is going. No. No way."

Del cut in front of him, keeping herself moving backwards so he wouldn't plow her over to get away.

"Oh, come on. What about a dirt bike? Just a little 125? That's harmless."

"If I teach you how to ride something that leads to you having the ability to take off on one of your dad's motorcycles…he would kill me." Of course he would know about stealing Bruce's motorcycles. He did it himself how many times?

"Who else am I going to ask? You're the closest thing to a brother that I've got." Del made her best 'I'm begging you' face.

"Don't make that face."

"C'mon. Please? Please? Please?"

Dick's shoulders slumped. "You are nothing but trouble." He grumbled.

Delilah took that as a yes, and skipped the rest of the way into the kitchen.

"Morning, Alfred." The old man, pushed her pills toward her. "Good Morning, Miss Wayne, Master Dick."

Delilah made short work of the pills. "Something smells good." But of course, bacon always did. Working her way into the kitchen, she found the tea pot. "You'll drink some tea with me won't you?" She asked, rifling through the cabinet for the tea canister, then a cup.

"Of course, that would be lovely."

"Where's Dad?"

"Still getting dressed."

Dick found the remote to the TV in the kitchen and plopped himself in a chair.

"The bizarre deaths that were once alleged to be linked to Zesti Cola, have begun to resurface. It's been eleven years since the company faced this kind of scrutiny."

The cup in Delilah's hands fell to the ground, scattering shards of porcelain across the kitchen floor. Her eyes didn't leave the TV.

"_DAD!" _

Delilah quickly turned snatching the bottle of cola from Dick. His lips were still opening and closing like a fish in shock when Bruce wandered into the kitchen, his tie still hanging limp around his neck. "What?"

Delilah pointed at the TV as she rinsed the sink

"That was a perfectly good bottle, you crazy person."

"Dick. Do yourself a favor; don't drink Zesti Cola for a while."

"It's happening again…" Delilah shook her head, bending down to help Alfred clean up the broken cup. "Alfred, I'm sorry I-"

"It's quite all right. Finish getting ready for school, breakfast will be ready when you're done."

Dick turned the TV off and shook his head. "Care to explain?" he asked, when Del finally vacated the room. Bruce remembered his tie and set about making it right. "Paige had spotted something strange going on with our Santa Prisca accounts."

"Santa Prisca? Isn't that where Zesti Cola originates?"

"Zesti Cola is made there, and sent here to be bottled." Bruce amended. "Paige bled out like all of the other cases that allege Zesti Cola was the cause."

"Wasn't she shot to death?"

The man paused, closed his eyes and took a breath. "I think they shot her just to torture her." He shook his head. "It's not what killed her."

"A senseless thing." Alfred said, taking the teapot off the burner as it screeched. "Miss Larson was a good woman."

"Yes, yes she was." Bruce turned to leave the kitchen. "I'm going to check on Del, and then I'm off. I'm sure the office will be a mess." Spying a plate on the counter, he snagged the bacon.

"It always is on a Monday, Sir."

Dick leaned on his elbows, when he was sure Bruce was out of ear shot, he spoke.

"He really liked her didn't he?"

Alfred scoffed. "I dare say Master Bruce was in love with her. I'm afraid he didn't realize how much he cared for her until she was gone."

"Dad. Don't forget I have talent show tryouts tonight." Bruce paused on the stairs. "And how late will that be?"

"Should be done by 8 p.m. I'll keep Alfred posted."

Bruce nodded. "Good luck." He called, trying to make his way out the door before anything else popped up. "No stops. Come straight home." His day was going to be full, and now, so was his evening.

Del plopped herself into the chair next to Dick, happy to see a plate full of food, and a fresh cup of tea.

"What's this business about a talent show?"

"School thing. I'm only doing it because Sam asked me to."

"Sam? Who's this Sam? When do we meet him?"

"Sam is a girl, you dork. She's a friend from school."

Delilah looked down at her plate and frowned.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Batman stole my bacon again."

* * *

><p>Delilah learned quickly that with a last name like hers, people were often intimidated. That didn't exclude her classmates. Sam all but spilled into her life. It was a simple mishap that ignited a friendship, and all it took was for Del to stop, bend down and help pick up the girl's books.<p>

"Someone is going to trip on that." Delilah muttered, eyeing a piece that had fallen off of someone's prop. Beside her, Sam's number wrinkled as she moved. "Are smoke bombs too much?"

Del raised an eyebrow as she looked to the girl. "Smoke bombs? You _are _going all out for this aren't you?"

Sam's dark eyes seemed to twinkle, and it sure as hell wasn't in a good way. "All an illusionist does is put on a good show."

Sam was good with her illusions. But Sam had a mischievous streak a mile wide. It's wasn't something people would expect from the quiet, shy, brainy, Samantha Cleary. But they also didn't know that she had the kind of mouth could make a sailor blush. Her filter just operated a lot better than Delilah's.

"Are you just after setting off the fire alarms?"

The girl snorted. "Maybe."

"You make your own smoke bombs?" Del asked, resting her head against the wall.

"Yeah, why?"

"Think you could make me a batch?" Sure, Del could lift a few from her Dad, but he noticed everything. He'd definitely notice if some of his own stock was missing. Sam's face lit up. "Just what are _you_ plotting?"

At that moment Pike Pitman, the captain of the lacrosse team stumbled. Unable to catch himself in time, he met the floor face first.

"Told you someone would trip on that."

Red faced, he righted himself, his eyes landing directly on them. "You put this here?"

"Why would I do that?" Delilah asked, crossing her arms in front of her as she slid all the way to the floor. She watched as the principal popped her head out of the office. "Mr. Pitman, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, I think Wayne and Cleary are leaving things in the hall though." He said, dabbing the blood off his face. Hmm. He did nail the floor pretty hard. Mrs. Bruner's eyes fell on the girls.

"Now why would I do that? I don't even have props."

"You just want to make me look stupid." He sneered. "Besides, Cleary has props. "

Delilah smirked. "Pitman, you don't need my help to look stupid. I think you've got it handled."

"Miss Wayne!"

Delilah covered her mouth. "Sorry, Mrs. Bruner."

"Miss Cleary, please go put your props in your home room until your number is called."

Del worked to her feet, helping Sam gather her things.

"See you losers later." Pike quipped, as soon as Bruner went back in her office.

"We're not the ones who met the floor with our faces."

Delilah never looked back. She simply held her hand up for a high-five.

"He's still pissed off that you turned him down for the formal." Sam noted, squeezing her way into the empty classroom.

"Ya think? It wasn't my fault that he asked me in front of the entire school."

"Wayne-Badger don't care. Wayne-Badger don't give a shit."

Sam always made hard not to laugh.

* * *

><p>For a while Del listened to the numbers as they were called, watching kids slip into the gym.<p>

"Only three to go." Sam cheered.

"Lucky you. I'm near the bottom of the list." In other words, she was going to be here a while. Sam worked herself away from the wall. "Be right back. Gotta get my stuff." But when Sam returned, her face was pale, and her hands were empty.

"Number 46!"

Delilah made her way to her instantly. "So the loser, apparently got a hold of my props." She grumbled.

"Can you fix them?"

"Yeah but I don't have enough time."

The girl sighed when Delilah began to unclasp her number from her leotard. "What are you doing?"

"Buying you time. I'm near the bottom of the list remember? Give me your number."

"You sure?" Sam's fingers hesitated, but Del was already shoving her number at her.

"No sweat. I'm just doing a little floor routine."

"47"

Samantha's face relaxed, allowing a little color to creep back in. Relief. "You are _awesome_."

"No. I'm just a nerd. And we nerds need to stick together." She said, unsnapping her track pants, and trying to step out of her sneakers all at once. She piled them against the wall with Sam's things.

"Number 48 is a scratch. Number 49!"

"Go get 'em Wayne-Badger."

* * *

><p>By the time Alfred arrived, the hall was dim. The throngs of kids that milled about before had dropped to a mere handful. Delilah was sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, next to a couple backpacks.<p>

"Have I missed it?" Alfred asked, settling along the wall beside her.

"Yeah. Sorry Alfred. I ended up swapping numbers with Sam. Some idiot broke her props just before her act. We swapped numbers so she had time to fix them. I did my routine early. So Sam is in there now."

"Master Bruce would be glad for you if you made it. But I'm sure he'd be proud of what you've done. I know I am."

Delilah opened her mouth just as a scream cut through the quiet hall. Smoke began to billow from under the double doors sending the fire alarm in a whaling panic. Delilah shook her head. "She set off the fire alarm. I knew that's what she was after."

But as the door opened and Samantha's body wobbled from the plume, the knowing smile on Delilah's face fell. The hall was filled with screams as Delilah jumped to her feet. "Something-Somethings.." Blood. It was running from Samantha's eyes and with every sound she tried to make, more would just seep from her mouth.

"Sam!"

Alfred, kept the girl from collapsing to the floor while Delilah called 911.

_I gave her my number. They thought she was me._ The though brought Del to her knees.


	6. Little Secrets

**A/N: Damian finally made it in, I'm just going to admit that it's not much, but it does place him in the same house as his sister. Everything has it's own layer and time. As for how old the characters are, Dick is 29. Del is currently 15. (This changes as you've noticed.) In my head Damian is 10. Tim is 15. And Jason...is tricky. He was 14 when he died. (I know, much older in the comics. Again, liberties.) And roughly about 25 when he returns but the lazurus pit has made him physically and yes mentally younger. **

**As for Damian and Delilah, I think you'll get a feel for how they regard each other in the next chapter for sure.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you want to do this?"<p>

An opaque reflection of myself stared back at me from the window, a face I wasn't sure I recognized. It certainly didn't feel like me. My hand reached up and gently touched the pearls around my neck. She did the same, her terrified face looking back at me wordlessly.

Just outside the car, journalists grouped in droves, tagging the car with their cameras and questions. From here their words were garbled. They were only out for a good story. What did they care? I felt Dad's hand touch mine, forcing me to finally break away from the chaos just outside.

"I have to." The words left me so even, so determined that I was almost afraid that I wasn't the one that said them. I looked up, feeling something inside me shudder as we passed through the gates of Arkham Asylum. The closer we got, the larger the eerie gray building became, blending into the fog that rolled off the water from the bay.

"Is the car shaking?"

"No, Sweetheart, it's you."

Ten years before that moment, two men ripped my mother from my life without remorse or explanation. And now one of them was up for parole. Nick St. James. Until this point I never really put the name with the face that tortured my thoughts. I just knew he was the man who shot my mother. Whoever he was connected with had enough cash to keep him from going to a prison. He was sent to Arkham for his so called "mental illness." A mental illness he has come to control. I called bullshit. I was definitely going to call his bluff that day.

I didn't answer. Dad's mouth was moving, but I was shoving the door of the car open and sliding out of the car before I could let him finish. If I didn't force myself out of the car right then and there, I might never have found the strength. I had to do this. My heels sank into the spongy earth, bringing a curse to my mouth, but I bit my lip to keep it from sliding out. The mob swarmed.

"Do you think St. James could be paroled?"

"Not if I have any say in it." The words were coming out all on their own. I could hear Dad sliding out of the car. Knowing he was right behind me, I marched up the stairs, splitting the paparazzi in two, trying to pay no mind to the flicker of flash bulbs.

The lobby was empty, and as sterile as a hospital. Of course most hospitals didn't come with large glass partitions, heavy bolted doors, or guards who could have passed as S.W.A.T. My eyes immediately fell to a group in suits, including a face I knew. Lois Lane smiled at me from the corner of her mouth.

"You grip that folder any tighter, you might rip it in half." She whispered, bringing my eyes down to my white knuckles. "Mind if I ask what that is?" I know this was Dad's way of controlling how the media was going to spin this. "You'll see." My words were soft, barely audible. It was nothing I would ever want to see printed. I wasn't about to let her touch it.

"This way, Miss Wayne." I followed the gentlemen through the iron doors, trying not to let the buzzing sound it made ring in my ears. "I'm sorry but with the renovations, We'll have to cut through the medical ward." When I simply stared at Jerimiah Arkham, he continued. "We'll have an escort of course. Not to worry, the ward is set up differently than you might think."

"What are the renovations for?" Dad would want to be updating his schematics for the place of course. Arkham's eyes widened ever so slightly before he pushed his round rim glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "We're running out of room." He said simply, turning away to lead us to more heavy doors. "With the Batman bringing so many people in… We have to add more room to shelter the patients while we rehabilitate them."

"So you want to release them?" I asked, stepping through the threshold, not even giving the medical staff a second glance. My eyes were too busy scanning the long corridor of cells. Cells that were anything but unoccupied. I kept my eyes on Dr. Arkham's back, trying my damndest to ignore the noise. If it wasn't screaming that curdled my blood, it was the cat calls.

Jerimiah peered behind his shoulder at me. "Only some of them." He amended. I felt my skin crawl as a maniacal laugh pierced the din of the noise. Dad didn't even falter. "Like St. James?"

I felt my father flick me on the shoulder. A subtle reminder to watch what I said, but Dr. Arkham sighed, as he lead us into the next lobby, freeing us of the noise. "In my opinion, he doesn't belong here."

"He doesn't belong out there either." His lips tightened, but he said nothing as he paused a set of oak doors. "That, Miss Wayne, is not for either of us to decide." He said at last, opening the doors for me.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

A part of me wanted to say yes. But somehow my head was shaking. "No." I answered. "He can't get to me now." Dad's hand was warm on my cheek, his mouth opened, but then whatever words he had planned, never came out. He just nodded. "I'll be right here, then." He managed.

My heels we're loud on the hardwood floor. The three individuals at the table, all looked at me. St. James didn't budge, he didn't even turn to look at me I just stared at his back.

"Miss Wayne, you have something to say?"

His spine went rigid. The chains rattled and scuffed on the floor as he turned to look at me. My breath caught in my lungs. Age had not been too kind, it had left deep grooves in his face. In the last 10 years his blond hair had dulled. I reminded myself that I was the one who gave him the reason to wear that eye patch.

"I'm so sorry, Delilah. Please forgive me."

"I'm not Jesus; I don't have to forgive you." The words flew out of my mouth as I circled around to face him. "And don't call me by name, like you know me." The adults in the room seemed a tad surprised. But to be honest, I was a little surprised by it too.

"You're right. You're right. I've wronged you, I know. But I'm a changed man! I don't hear the voices anymore."

He looked up at me, pleading. "We've hurt one another, the cycle has to stop somewhere." He added, lifting his hands to remove the eye patch, revealing the scared lump of flesh where his eye had once been. I don't think I even flinched.

"Wronged me…you've wronged me…." I opened the folder, sliding one photo at a time onto the table in front of him. I didn't want to look down; I didn't want to see my mother bleeding out on the living room floor. I saw that enough when I slept. "Wronged me? You ripped my world apart!" Dad always said, think like the enemy. I knew one thing. The man in front of me was a sadist. His eyes flickered down at the photos.

"You look so much like her." I felt something inside me squirm when the corner of his mouth up turned and he picked up one of the pictures.

"Tell me, _Nick_, what are you really sorry for?"

He set the photo down and looked at me. "I took your mother from you."

I started to take the photos back up. "You're sorry that you took my mother from me." I could see Lois watching me as she leaned against the wall by the door. "But you're not sorry that you killed her." I amended, picking up the photos at a faster pace.

"No. Wait!" He grasped for the pictures but I yanked them away and took a step back.

"You enjoyed killing her, didn't you?" When he reached for me the guards moved closer. "Didn't you!?"

"Yes. Yes! You little bitch! Now give them back!" When he pushed the table over I jumped back, and was quickly pushed out of the way when guards went to restrain him. His body went slack as realization began to sink in. "You tricked me!" He screamed, pulling against the guards.

"Ever come at me again, I'll take the other eye." I whispered to him. "You took my mother from me. I'm going to take your freedom from you."

I caught Lois by the door, her eyes were wide as saucers. "I'll see you next time, _Nick_." He was still screaming when we left the room, leaving a horrified parole board on their feet. Dad furrowed his brow as I made my way to his side. Appearently the large doors didn't keep the noise from slipping out. "I don't think He'll be leaving here, Dr. Arkham." I felt Dad's arm around my shoulder, as he squeezed me to his side.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. I'm _relieved_."

Dr. Arkham simply sniffed. "This will be a major setback in his rehabilitation program."

"Some people, Doctor, you just can't rehabilitate. No matter how hard you try."

He had nothing to say to that, even as we began to trail back through the medical ward. Like before I kept my eyes on the good doctor's back, trying to pay no mind to the noise of the inmates.

"I remember those!"

I felt my fingers curl around the pearls on my neck, as I came eye to eye with the Joker himself. "Though the last time I saw them, they were bouncing up and down the sidewalk. Hmm..I think I liked them that red sort of color." I felt Dad stiffen. I on the other hand simply reacted. I suppose the hands of an adult wouldn't fit through the bars that separated us. The balled fist of a fourteen year old, however, is another matter. According to Dick, I had some bony knuckles. I would have to take his word for it, or otherwise ask the Joker. Dad didn't say two words. He just handed me a handkerchief so I could wipe the blood off my hand. "I could say the same about your face." _That's for Dad. That's for Jason._ He thought I was funny I suppose, since his laughter followed us the rest of the way through the ward.

"How did you get St. James to snap?" Dad asked me later. The pearls felt heavy and warm in my hands. "You always told me to think like the enemy." I said, laying them gently back in their box. I can't imagine what it must have been like for Dad to have to have to collect each pearl off the sidewalk.

When I looked up, I realized he was waiting on an explanation. "St. James is a sadist." I said softly, setting the box on his desk. "I knew that he'd..." My teeth dug into my lip as I tried to choose my words. "That if he saw the pictures of mom…" He'd enjoy it so much he wouldn't have wanted it to stop. Dad rose from his chair, when my eyes fell to my hands.

"I can't say I don't want that man to feel pain. _I do_. I want him to _suffer_ the way he made her suffer. I want him to die slowly, and know that he's dying. I want him to know there's not a God Damn thing he can do about it!" Dad's arms felt like vice grips around me. I don't even remember him coming around the desk. I just knew he was there. "It makes me just like… him."

It would not the first time I would have to face Nick St. James, or even Gregory Gillespie, the second man in the equation. It was however the first time I began to realize what I was made of, and just what kind of things I had buried in the darkest parts of my soul.

* * *

><p>"Alfred. Prepare a room. It looks like we have a guest."<p>

"I can't at the moment, Sir. But I shall when I return to the manor."

The street lights washed over the windshield of the bat-mobile, filling the cabin with flickers of light to pierce the darkness. The boy in the passenger seat, had his head tilted, watching the buildings rise and fall.

"Alfred? Where are you?"

"On the way home from Gotham Memorial, Sir."

The kick of the booster's forced the dark haired child to look toward the Dark Knight. "In a hurry now, Father?"

* * *

><p>"This is smaller than I imagined."<p>

Bruce didn't stop to offer the boy a response, as he stalked for the foyer. "ALFRED!"

The gray haired Pennyworth paused on the stairs, taken aback by the black haired boy that followed in Bruce's trail.

"Where?" it was the only question he gave, pulling the cowl away from his face as he marched up the stairs.

"The usual place, Sir."

At that Bruce finally paused. "Alfred this is Damian." He said at last, sliding a glance at the boy, trying to ignore the droll look he wore. "Where are the rest of the servants?"

"He's it. And he's not a servant."

Damian just stared, as if the idea miffed him somehow. But as Alfred looked at the boy, all he could see was a young Bruce Wayne. "Alfred will show you to your room."

For a moment they stood on the stairs, watching as Bruce paused at a code locked door. Alfred finally cleared his throat and started in the other direction. "This way, Master Damian."

"Pennyworth, what's beyond there?"

Hearing his name fall out of the boy's mouth the butler bristled, but recovered himself. "I suppose you'll learn that soon enough, but not tonight."

* * *

><p>He could hear the sound of gloves smacking against a heavy bag. The second he poked his head into her small gym, Jax lifted his head and grumbled a greeting. Del, didn't so much as look his way. She already knew he was there. Her leotard was covered with blood.<p>

Delilah's eyes burned with the threat of tears, forcing the girl to choke the sob down as she swung at the bag, causing it's chain to rattle when it swung back from the force of her blow. Blood. It was all she could smell. Sam's blood. The bag wasn't swaying anymore. She went to swing, when her father caught her glove. "Delilah."

The girl's chest heaved, sweat was beading down her brow and yet, her pale blue eyes weren't even looking at him. She simply sank to the mat. "Tell me what happened." He told her, crouching down before her.

Jax crawled on his stomach, inching his way across the mats until his was pressed against the girl's side. "It's my fault Dad. It's _my_ fault." She looked down at her leo and back at him, shaking her head. "It's not my blood." She croaked. "It's Sam's."

"It was just like Mom." The words left her louder than she anticipated, forcing the teenager to realize just how alarmed she really was. She mopped her face with her sleeve when he started to blur. He had no choice but to sit silently as she closed her eyes and stilled herself. No doubt counting to ten in her head. When she opened her eyes she forced herself to her feet. Once she ripped off her gloves, she immediately went for her backpack.

Bruce followed, looking over her shoulder as she began to scroll through pictures that she had taken with her phone. An arm with what appeared to be an injection site and a rancid looking rash. "They injected Sam with the same chemical that killed Mom." She said evenly, as she swiped through the catalog. "If it wasn't for Alfred…she would have died."

"And how do you know it's the same chemical?"

Delilah let him take the phone from her. "She came out of the gym bleeding from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth…she almost bled out right there in the hallway. I took those when I was allowed to see her."

Del went back to riffling through the bag, producing a small jar with a couple cotton swabs. "I swabbed the injection site, just before the paramedics arrived."

Bruce plucked the small jar from her hand, looking at it then back to her. "You did good, Delilah." But the girl shook her head. "_No_. I didn't do enough." She snapped, turning away from him. She wandered to the balance beam, digging her hands into it as if it would keep her rooted. "Her kidneys are trashed, and her liver…" Delilah shook her head. "She'll be on dialysis for the rest of her life if she doesn't find donors."

Watching his daughter hang her head, swallow her sobs and beat herself up, it was enough to make a father feel as if he had been kicked in the gut. She lifted her head when he finally approached, but her eyes were staring out the window. There was nothing but darkness on a calm sea. "It's my fault." She whispered. "I gave her my number, Dad. I had her number, she had mine. I was just trying to do the right thing." She continued her voice cracking. "She needed more time to work on her act. I was at the end of the list. We swapped." Her shoulders slumped forward. "She's the only friend I've got…and I almost got her killed."

"It's not something _you_ caused, Del."

"But it was meant for me!" She cried. And if it had been her, he would have been arranging a funeral for his daughter. "I've been racking my brain trying to figure out why. I thought maybe it was something to do with St. James and Gillespie, but St. James doesn't come up for parole for another few years, and Gillespie is still working on his appeal. And neither one of them strikes me as big enough, or bright enough to cause something so…gruesome. Let alone orchestrate it from prison."

"Someone else's pawns."

She slammed her hands on the beam. "I want to know who, I want to know why, and I want it to stop."

"I'll scan this into the computer."

"I already did it. The test is still running it won't be done until tomorrow. I scanned the photos too. I even wrote comparison notes from all the cases. I'd still be down there…but I just can't look at the pictures anymore." She said softly. "There's something we're missing." Delilah hoisted herself onto the beam and sat, her hands idly in her lap. "It probably has something to do with Mom doesn't it?"

She felt something inside her fall, when her father nodded. "It's possible."

Delilah's brows furrowed. "She was pretty open with you wasn't she? I mean you were awfully open with her." She said gesturing to his suit. Her father's lips twitched into a smirk. "Actually…she figured that out on her own."

"How?"

"That's a story for later." He said. "Right now there's something else you need to know."

At this Delilah raised a brow. "Oh? Spill it, Bats."

"I ran into Talia tonight. She had a boy with her, claims he's my son."

Uh oh. Delilah put her face into her palm. "Not Talia."

"He's here, Del."

At that she peeked through her fingers at him. "You serious?" she grumbled. When he nodded, she rolled her eyes. "And what do you think?"

"I'm not sure what I think right now. It's possible, but it could also be a ploy."

"Sounds like something Talia would pull. Hide a kid from you. Or throw one in just to throw to screw with your head or both." Delilah shook her head. "Why do you always fall for devious bitches?"

"_That_ I'm not discussing with you. And watch your mouth." With that he plopped a kiss on her forehead.

"Sam is still alive, and she's safe. I'll have Dick keep an eye on her. We'll take another look at this tomorrow when the tests have finished."

"Yes, Sir."

She waited for him to make it to the door. "Dad?" Wayne paused. "Did you love her? My mother, I mean. Alfred seems to think you did."

Delilah watched her father's face soften. "Alfred's very intuitive." It was as close to a yes as she would get. Her parents were riddled with secrets it seemed. Some were small and innocent. Others, however, were just plain deadly.


	7. First Impressions

**A/N** _-_ Slightly late, but again, it's a long one! We've got a few things going on here with a new face popping in. I'm sure ya'll will figure it out. And YES. Damian and Delilah finally do meet one another.

* * *

><p>Anybody can become angry - that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not within everybody's power and is not easy.<p>

– Aristotle

Batman walked a very fine line between right and wrong. I'm not saying that temptation and anger hadn't ever tested him, that's something I know to be fact. But I also know that my father's moral compass and quick thinking always prevailed, despite the beckoning of the abyss that so many fell prey to. He had never fallen, in spite of coming so close to crossing that line.

It occurred to me that night that if the party responsible wouldn't show their face, then I would have to force their hand somehow. Bruce Wayne had taught me how to think on my feet. Batman had instilled in me a moral compass quite like his own. I had the will, and the mind to make it work, the only glaringly obvious problem was…I didn't quite have the skill. I was only hoping I had the strength not to fall.

* * *

><p>"You rappelled out of your bedroom window?! You serious?!"<p>

Delilah sank into the chair beside Sam's bed, trying to ignore the hum of the hospital intercoms. Her only response was to let her lips twist into a half smile. Sam flopped onto the pillows.

"Oh. My. God. You did!"

"Who does that?"

Del cut her eyes to Jordan, Sam's little brother. The kid was sitting on the floor against the window, with a tablet in his lap. Like his sister his cropped hair was brown, and his dark eyes were wide. The sun had placed a few freckles across the bridge of his small sloped nose. He just stared at her incredulously. Del was still public enemy number one.

"She does."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Crazy rich people." He grumbled, sliding his attention back to his tablet without giving the girls another glance.

"Since when do you rappel?"

Delilah shrugged her shoulders, watching the traffic out in the hall. "Since I started watching YouTube tutorials?"

Shortly after the Talia incident, Delilah's own wing was fortified to something akin to Fort Knox. No one came through the heavy doors without the proper code. Tampering only put the wing on lockdown. No one in. And no one out. When Delilah explained this, Samantha scoffed. "I don't know, why not just use a phone and call for help like a normal person?"

"Gee, thanks, Alfred Jr. "

At hearing his name, Alfred poked his head in the room. "Precisely. Maybe you should take to listening to Miss Cleary's advice?"

"I promise, Alfred, that's what I'll do, next time."

"Yes, Miss, I'm sure you will, after all I was only born yesterday." With that the man returned to his post in the hall, and to his book.

"So how did you end up getting locked in to begin with?" Sam asked, trying to shift herself so she could sit up.

"Thanks to a certain someone, the number pad was left hanging by wires." She hadn't even met Damian yet, and the little twerp had already managed to get on her nerves.

"Someone who?"

Delilah shook her head, leaving Sam's mouth to make a perfect 'O'. It wasn't hard to find out the details of Delilah's past, especially when the internet was still teaming with conspiracy theories about Wayne's secret lovechild. When the proverbial light bulb went off over Sam's head, Del nodded, pressing her finger to her lips.

"You look awfully fancy in that get up." Sam commented, eyeing the neat black slacks and the stark white blouse with lace sleeves. It certainly wasn't Del's usual wardrobe choice. "Heels?" Sam quipped giving the girl a raised eyebrow.

"Hey, my chucks are in the car."

"Those will be on before lunch."

"Dad thought it would be a good idea if I shadowed him at the office today." The girls stared at each other. Translation: Wayne wanted her in arms reach today. He didn't trust the school to keep her safe.

"Who wants to go to school anyway?" Sam said with a shrug. "Jor, can you get me my bag?"

"If you end up here for too long, you're going to lose your scholarship to that stupid prep school." Jordan snipped, rising to his feet to grab his sister's backpack. "It's not like Mom and Dad could afford to send you there without it."

"Lay off, Jordan, I_ know_."

Samantha Cleary lead the life that Delilah might have had if the Fates had seen it in their hearts to let her mother live. A middleclass life. A life without the public peering in. A life where there wasn't a camera being shoved into your face every time you stepped a foot outside the house. People weren't intimidated by a name, or trying to get close to you simply for your connections.

The Cleary family, was just that, a family, a quiet and unassuming bunch. They opened their home to Delilah, though it seemed to make Sam's mother really nervous, and Sam's father a little too intrigued for his own good. But as a unit they were the kind of family Del found herself wishing she could have had. It was always a curious notion to wonder just what her father would have been like had fate been just slightly different. But it was never an idea that the girl entertained for long. The fates must have had some clue of what they were doing. Or so one could hope.

"Don't worry about the scholarship. Nothing is going to happen to it."

Sam stopped rifling through her bag and stared. "Oh? And how the hell do you know?

"Guess who funds the scholarship…"

Sam looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Seeing the relief cross her face was little consolation when it compared to how she arrived here. Delilah watched as Sam pulled a sleek black tin tube from her bag and handed it to her. "Ta Da."

It was full of black and yellow smoke bombs. "I made those while we were waiting. You didn't specify a color so…" Samantha shrugged, tossing her bag on the floor. "You never did tell me what they were for. Inquiring minds want to know."

"Inquiring minds will have to wait for another day." Delilah teased, slipping the tube quickly into her purse.

"You're no fun."

As the sound of heels drew close from the hall, Delilah rose to her feet, trying to offer Evelyn Cleary a smile when the woman entered the room. Her hazel eyes looked worn, as if she had been awake the entire night. As if she could blame the woman.

"Hello Mrs. Cleary."

"Miss Wayne."

Delilah felt her brows knit together. Weird. She always called her by name.

"I think it's time for you go."

Delilah grabbed her purse as Sam's face twisted. "She just got here." But Sam's mother raised her dimpled chin defiantly. "I'm sorry, but the truth of the matter is, you being near her puts you in danger."

"MOM!"

"Please understand…" The words weren't met for her daughter, not when Delilah could look right into the woman's eyes when she spoke. "It's just not safe. I would prefer it if you didn't come around anymore."

"It wasn't Delilah's fault, Mom." Samantha snapped. But Del held up her hand. "No. I understand." She said softly, her heels clicking as she made her way to the door. "Call me when you feel up to it." She offered, stopping at the door. Mrs. Cleary's arms folded in front of her as she spoke. "That's not a good idea either." She said primly. "I'm sorry, Delilah. But I have to protect my daughter."

Alfred was already on his feet when she crossed the threshold into the hall, closing the door gently behind her. It didn't stop the voices from carrying. "Really Mom? It wasn't her fault that some lunatic decided to inject me with chemicals."

"No, I'm she was the target, but I'm not willing to bet your life on it."

"If it was her instead of me, she'd be dead."

"Yes she would have. But you would have been safe."

Alfred touched the girl's arm, pulling her away from the door. "Perhaps we shouldn't dawdle here." He said softly, letting the buzz of the lobby drown the conversation. "She's just doing what most mother's do."

Delilah sighed, feeling the sunlight brush her cheek as they step out to the sidewalk. "I know, Alfred." She paused, smoothing her coat over her arm, as Alfred opened the door to the car. Jax had somehow managed to mash his body into the floorboard behind the driver's seat. He offered her a toothy dog smile as he struggled to untangle himself. At least the dog was happy to see her.

"Master Bruce will join you at the office shortly." In other words, he wasn't leaving the house until Alfred returned. Oh, she had an inkling why that was…

"So, what's my kid bother like?"

The girl watched the man's face twitch in the review mirror. "He's just a barrel of fun."

"Oh, joy."

"Although… he has yet to rappel from his bedroom window…like someone else I know."

Delilah lifted her hands as Jax forced his heavy head onto her lap. "Dad hasn't called me yet, so I take it you haven't told him." She said, watching the dog's big brown eyes close as she rubbed his head.

"No. I didn't see any reason to." When the teen looked up, she realized he was starting at her. He knew. Surely he knew she was up to something. "Don't give me reason to."

"I'll try not to."

Alfred said nothing more, except to grumble about the foolishness of fathers and daughters.

* * *

><p>The girl could hardly make it off the elevator before she was swarmed. "When is you're father coming in. he really needs to hear about this." Delilah didn't even hesitate; she simply took the folder from the woman. "He'll be here shortly." She said, peering into the folder. "Now that's not right." Account skimming. She closed it, but didn't give it back. "When do you think your father could hold a conference about the Kaiser account?" Del spared the man a look, aware that Jax was all but leading himself to their destination.<p>

"Soon."

"6?"

"Not _that_ soon. C'mon, he'd kill me." Definitely not. Now that the sun was starting so set earlier and earlier, it meant Batman was also able to leave at an earlier time, of course that never meant he'd be home any earlier.

"What's this rumor I hear about Lex Corp is sniffing around?"

That got them quiet, for all but a split second.

"And how did you hear about that? You're all of what? Fifteen?"

Delilah paused. "Do _you_ want to break it to my father?" She asked looking up at the man as his mouth flopped open and then closed. "Kaiser was seen having lunch with some members of the board in Metropolis." He loosened his tie, as if it were strangling him. "That's the rumor anyway."

"Oh, really now? We'll just see about that." Reaching the large double doors, the girl wrenched one open. " See, now that's why I like this kid." She was one of the closest voices in her father's ear. They knew that…and so did she. Perhaps most adults wouldn't take order or direction from a fifteen year old but Bruce Wayne had been grooming the girl from the moment the world learned that Wayne Enterprises had an heiress. In other words, they had no choice. He who holds majority share, makes the rules.

"Can I bring you anything?" the secretary asked, as she managed to cut through the small group of sharks that had built up around the door. "I'll be fine, Janice, thank you. But would you be so kind as to warn the ladies around the water cooler that I'm here." The woman grinned. Nothing made gossipers scatter quite like the boss's daughter. "I thought watching them put their feet into their mouths was one of your favorite pass times."

"It is, I just want to make sure they can't say they weren't warned." With that Del shut the door.

* * *

><p>When Bruce finally made it in, his daughter had already made herself comfortable at his desk. Jax was sprawled out in front of it, he didn't even bother to lift his head. "They're freaking out about the Kaiser account, you know." She told him, peering over the monitor. "If it were me, I'd drop the snake on his ass. But I think I'm more vengeful than you are…businesswise."<p>

"Uh, huh." He was still trying to adjust his tie, it was then that Delilah realized that he seemed a little flushed and that veins in his neck were budging. "Who has high blood pressure issues again?" Del asked, shoving herself away from the desk, and crossing the room. "Geez, what are you doing to that thing? Haven't you ever paid attention to Alfred?" she asked, righting the tie for him before he knotted it to death.

"Damian must have set you off this morning. Full on Batman butt chewing?"

"You could say that." Of course she could. She's had one or two of those herself, and if she wasn't careful there was bound to be a third. If he didn't confine her to her wing for the rest of her life to top it off.

"The test?" She asked softly, knowing full well he was checking for the results the second they became available.

"Part MDMA, part venom."

"Ecstasy?"

"It's such a high concentration that it causes the body to literally boil." That explained the bleeding. A body's blood pressure would get so high that it would literally force the blood out of any opening it could squeeze through.

"Mom never, and I mean _never_–"

"I know, Del. But it is the same mixture. Compared to your mother's samples, they're a close match." Bruce said carefully, aware that his daughter was pacing the length of the office and back again. But when his words finally sunk in she paused, her face was impassive. A trait she had picked up from him, not that he cared to see her mirroring it so well. "A close match?"

"What Sam was injected with had more MDMA, less venom."

"But with Mom?"

"It was the other way around. It was enough MDMA to cause her to bleed out, but also-"

"To feel the effects of the venom…."

Bruce nodded.

"They wanted me to die as quickly as possible. I'd die of heart attack before I'd even start to bleed..but Mom…" Delilah felt herself shudder as realization began to seep in. Her mother's screams always echoed back to her in anger, but knowing now that her mother was in severe pain…

Del crumbled back into the chair; the simple motion seemed to pull Jax to his paws, warranting a head in the lap. "I don't understand." She said softly, tracing the shape of the dog's head with the pads of her fingers. "Were the Santa Prisca accounts that big of a deal?" She asked, finally willing herself to look up at her father, who was leaning on the desk. "I mean, we still get revenue skimmers. Hell, we have one right now. Were the amounts large?"

"How do you know about those?"

"I heard you guys in the kitchen…"

But her father was shaking his head. "No, they weren't. Most to the Analysts didn't even notice." He said crossing his arms against his chest. He was staring out the window rather than looking at her. "It was a pattern of small sums that been filtered over a span of years."

"Where do the Zesti Cola deaths come in?"

"Bigger chunks started to go missing, right as people started to die. The accounts haven't been touched since then."

"Could it be someone here?" Delilah asked suddenly, causing her father to finally look at her, even if it was just a passing glance. "If it is, they're still here; no one has up and quit or left the department that handles those accounts."

"The accounts haven't been touched. Not once?"

"No. I've been monitoring them myself."

"Then they got their payoff some other way." Delilah snagged her bag from under the desk, and began fishing for her sneakers. "What I don't get is why. Maybe Mom found something, and that's why they went after her. But why come after me? No one stands to gain anything from it."

"They may not think that's true."

"Damian? You mean in a scenario where he and I might actually be related?"

"You are." Bruce said gravely. "I ran DNA tests this morning."

Yikes. "You have a kid with Talia?" Delilah put her head in her hands. "Oh, crap Dad. Talia?! Seriously? Of all the women in the world to-"

"She drugged me."

"Ugh. That sounds like her, but ugh." With that Delilah held up her palms. "Okay… _that_ aside why would she…" The words fell from Delilah's mouth. "A pity I never met your mother, but perhaps for you it was for the best…"

Her father was gazing at her now, eyebrow raised. No question he was waiting on an explanation. "She said that to me when I met her. Why would she say something like that to me?"

"Intrigued and jealous."

"Jealous of what?"

"Not what, who. You. I raised you."

"But not Damian." Delilah jammed her foot into her shoe, wrenching up the laces. "That could have been changed long ago. She should have thought about that!"

"Easy."

Delilah clamped her mouth shut, realizing just how loud she was becoming. "Sorry." She muttered, tossing her heels into her bag. She didn't even make it to lunch, Sam was right…as usual. "But she knows who I am. We've met. Whoever did this to Sam, picked her because of a number that was on a roster…not because they knew what I looked like."

Wayne opened his mouth when the intercom on his desk beeped. "Mr. Drake has arrived, Sir."

"Thank you, Janice, We'll be right there."

"As much as I don't like her, I seriously doubt this was any of her doing. Even if Damian stood to inherit, she's too methodical and too controlling to let something this sloppy happen."

"Agreed." He told her, draping her coat over her shoulders when she finally stood. "So why go after me? Unless it was to get to you…"

For the space of breath, her father didn't move, but just as she thought there might have been something to it, he was moving toward the door, only pausing to wait for her to catch up.

"We'll have to talk about this later." Translation: _I don't have the answers...yet. _But knowing him, he would figure it out. He always did.

* * *

><p>"There's the man of the hour."<p>

Delilah stood back letting her father deal with the niceties. But as she watched men shake hands, she quickly noticed the young man who was standing off to the side. "Jack, always good to see you. Of course you know my daughter, Delilah."

Delilah's eyes cut to the man, offering him a smile. "Hello, Mr. Drake." Drake? Right? Oh, fuck.

"Haven't seen you, Missy in a long time. I'm sure you keep your father on his toes."

"Of course."

He then gestured to the dark haired boy who was standing so quietly off to his side. "This is my son Timothy." But Tim simply smiled. "Delilah and I go to school together, Dad." He explained,

"Well that makes things easier then, doesn't it?"

Timothy Drake by all accounts was a pretty decent guy, if a bit of a know it all. But he never bothered her so that was a plus. They were by no means friends, just acquaintances at best. "So the rumor is, you gave Pike a bloody nose."

Delilah flinched when her father's fork clattered against his plate. "Oh, really?"

"Uh oh, Bruce, sounds like you have a spitfire on your hands."

Delilah stabbed at her salad, trying to smother the overwhelming urge to stab Tim with her fork.

"He gave himself a bloody nose, when he did a face-plant in the hallway the other day." At that the girl held up her hands. "I don't know what's worse, admitting he busted his own face, or saying I did it for him."

Tim was grinning.

"Pike? Who names their kid after a fish?" Jack wanted to know, easing the tensions she could feel radiating off of her father.

"Celebrities." Delilah offered, liking the husky sound of the man's chuckle.

"You're awfully busy for a fifteen year old." Jack commented, leering at Tim who slumped ever so slightly. A duck if Del ever saw one. "Not only do you shadow your old man around, you're constantly volunteering…what was it last week? Quest Kids- Kid's Quest?"

"An organization that helps put community parks back together."

"Right." He said, stopping only to take a sip of his drink, "And when I passed 'Page for Parents' the other day, I could have sworn I saw you there."

"You probably did. Just because you put an organization together, doesn't mean you only pass through every now and then. Philanthropy only goes so far. If you want something good to come of it, you have to actively be a part of it."

"Oh I see, Dad funds, you participate. Quite the tag-team."

"Don't let her fool you, she's badgered me into participating a few times."

Delilah feigned shock. "I don't badger." She protested. "I simply suggest…over and over. "

"Until she wears me down."

Delilah wanted to snort. Wear Batman down? Please. No one simply annoyed him into doing anything he didn't want to. Page for Parents had started out as the idea of a ten year old girl. For all her ranting and raving about the lack of support for single parent families, she never thought her father would take the steps to make the idea into something real. One could only guess that it struck a chord with her father since he himself was a single parent.

Barbies, tutus, teary eyed tantrums, bogyman checks, and bedtime stories. It was all uncharted territory for him. Had it not been for Barbra, Bruce wasn't sure if he could have navigated 'little girl land.' And he was Batman for crying out loud! But everything seemed to be turning out okay. So far.

The moment the plates were cleared from the table, Jack spoke, "Wayne, why don't you ask your lovely daughter to take that dog that's all but drooling at your feet for a walk, I'll have the boy escort her and we'll be free to talk business."

Delilah had to fight not to make a face.

"Have your phone?" her father asked her.

When she nodded, he simply handed her the leash. Tim excused himself, following the girl and the dog out into the plaza just under the shadow of Wayne Enterprises. For a long moment, neither said a word.

"Did that seem weird to you?" Tim asked suddenly, tilting his head up at the pale blue sky.

"Very. My Dad never asks me to leave when it's business."

"Mine either."

"It doesn't mean I won't find out later." The girl said with a shrug. Tim just stared at her, keeping his pace. "What?" She asked when he just kept staring. "Nothing, you're just kind of different outside of school…less ice woman…more-"

"Human?" Del supplied, as Jax lead them into the park, knowing the route they usually took.

"Sorry, that sounds worse than I thought."

"I'm used to it." She said, listening to the tags on the doberman's collar jingle as they walked. "There's more important things than high school popularity…so I rather focus on those."

"Page for Parents. The gymnastics, the piano lessons, choir, volunteer work, the business."

"And the animal sanctuary."

At that Tim paused. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Saturdays. I stopped doing the choir thing when my tonsils were removed."

"Do you keep yourself this busy on purpose? I mean, you're making the rest of us look bad."

At that Delilah laughed, covering her mouth when she actually snorted. "You tell anyone I did that, I'm kicking your ass." She said when he started to chuckle at her. "So I take it you're not as involved with things as your Dad would like."

Tim pursed his lips. "That obvious?" he asked, looking away from the branches above their heads. "According to him, I spend way too much time tinkering on my projects."

"Tinkering isn't bad. My bother says I stay this busy just so I can get out of having a social life."

At that Tim raised a brow, "I didn't know you had a brother." He said, watching her stop at a hot-dog stand. Surely she wasn't hungry. When she caught him looking at her funny, she smiled. "Chill, it's not for me." She told him. "Dick isn't related." She said, digging into her purse for the cash.

"If it's for who I think it is, keep the money."

"Thank you."

"Tell him to come see me; I think I have a job for him, if he wants it."

"Will do."

"Dick?"

"Dick Grayson. My Dad took him in when he was younger."

Tim followed the girl as she veered onto the leaf ridden green, weaving through the balding trees as if she had done it millions of times before.

"As in the 'Flying Graysons'?"

"Mmm hmm." She answered, but she didn't even look back at him, her eyes seemed locked onto a gray-haired man who was reading on a park bench. "Mr. Harold, how's Verne today?" The man peered over the worn leather book, giving the girl a tight lipped smile. "Fantastic as always." He told her.

"Jax and I brought you some lunch. It's kind of hard to read through 20,000 leagues under the see without some sustenance you know."

"And if I refuse to take it?"

"You know I'm just going to leave it here." She warned. Setting the food down beside him on the bench, but handing him the cup of coffee. "Mr. Cho said he'd like to talk to you. Says he has a job if you're interested."

The man sighed. "Never argue with the lady." He told Tim. "She's hard to bargain with."

"Bargain? Who said I bargain?"

"I see your point." Tim said, tilting his head as he read the title in the man's hands. " I liked 20,000 leagues under the sea, but Journey to the center of the Earth, that's a favorite."

"Now you sound like her." The old man jested, jerking a thumb to Del.

"To each their own. Don't forget about Mr. Cho."

"Oh, I won't. Thank you for the lunch, Sweetheart."

"I'm just looking out for my fellow Vernian, but you're welcome."

Tim was beside himself, watching the girl kick up the leaves so the dog could try to catch them. "You're on a first name basis with the locals around here."

"Most of them. When I was younger, Dick and I would mingle out here while Dad worked."

"We have pictures of the Graysons. My parents saw them perform just before they died; Dick is in a few of them. I'll have to bring them to school so you can see them."

"I don't really know when I'll be back at school. Dad may not let me go back."

"Oh… I'm sorry about your friend."

"I am too, more than you realize." Delilah said, cutting her eyes to the ground, watching shadows build up behind them. She listened for a moment, trying to hear the sound of shoes scuffing or tapping on the concrete, but there was nothing. When someone touched her shoulder, she dropped the leash, balled a fist and swung. The sound of her fist hitting her father's open palm was loud. He held her fist just a breath away from his face.

She recoiled, when he let her hand fall. "Jesus, Dad. I'm sorry."

"Damn, Wayne. Those are some relaxes." Jack sputtered when he recovered from his shock. Bruce smirked as he shook his hand out. "Good thing too, she hits hard." Tim didn't say a word; he only watched the father and daughter curiously. There was more here than what they saw. He could feel it.

* * *

><p>"I <em>am<em> sorry."

Bruce's only response was to step out of the elevator. "You're still too slow." He told her, flashing her a smile out of the corner of his mouth. She immediately socked him in the arm, letting Jax run to the office door, dragging his leash behind him.

"Slow he says. You just wait until we get home!"

But as Jax stood at the door and growled, the teasing look slid from her father's face. The second he opened a door, the dog shoved his way inside, barking and snarling as he charged forward. "_Down_."

Jax was sitting obediently in the middle of floor, baring his teeth at the dark haired boy who was lounging with his feet on the desk, when Delilah followed her father inside, making sure to close the door softly behind her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Reviewing my inheritance."

Delilah chocked on a laugh. "Cute."

At that moment, the phone in Bruce's pocket began to vibrate, shaking his head he whipped it out.

_"Yes, Alfred?"_

Delilah moved from the door way, eyeing the boy carefully. He wasn't that tall, even for ten, he was thin but lean. Looking at him she could almost pull out the parts of him that belonged to her father…or their father. The chin, the shape of his mouth, the hair, the ears. But unlike a complete Bruce Wayne mini, his eyes were a dark shade of green, and his nose was slightly rounder, like one she knew Talia to have.

_"He's here…yes, if you don't mind."_

As intently as Delilah was studying Damian, he seemed to be regarding her just the same. She plopped on the thick black sofa in the office, summoning Jax to her side with a snap of her fingers. The dog came, and hunkered down on the floor at her feet, though his posture was anything but relaxed.

"And just who are you?" Damian asked, swiveling the chair to face her, his elbows were propped on the arms of the chair, his fingers neatly locked. It certainly wasn't the posture of a ten year old.

"What your Mommy didn't tell you?"

_"Ask Dick if he would, he's more likely to if it comes from you."_

At that Del's eyes moved from kid, to her father. Just what was he up to?

"She must not have thought you were important."

"Del?"

Her chance to retort was stolen. "Yeah, Dad?" but out of the corner of her eye she could see Damian's eyes widen just ever so slightly. "Alfred is on his way; Dick will be meeting you at the manor later."

"All right…what about Mr. Fox?"

"I won't be staying much longer myself, so if you want to visit with him, do it now." Delilah pulled herself from the sofa. He didn't trust Damian by himself. That was clear. "Alrighty." Visiting with Lucius Fox was something they always tended to do together, so when offered the chance to talk to him alone, she jumped at it.

"What? Did you think you were an only child?" She asked, smiling when the Damian's expression soured.

"I can rectify that." Damian said simply, as she opened the door to let Jax out first.

"You have to go through him." She said giving a nod toward their father, as she moved to shut the door behind her. She ducked out as soon as something hard and heavy went flying through the air, hitting the door frame instead of the intended target. She quickly shut the door to keep any shrapnel from bouncing into the hallway.

"You missed." She called, knowing full well he could hear her. Poor Janice stared down the hall wide eyed. "Is everything okay?"

"Yep. Just another day at the office." The girl said easily, calling Jax to her with a pat on her leg. "Let's go see the Fox, Jax." She jested, racing the Doberman to the elevator with her backpack in tow.

* * *

><p>"Oh, no. here comes trouble."<p>

"Who? Me? Nah." Delilah plopped herself on a stool, and rolling herself to the table where he sat. Her father had made sure he had been reappointed to the board, but after so much time in the prototype hanger, one could say it grew on the man. She picked up the glove in front of him, surprised at how light it was. "Kevlar weave if you can believe it." He said, watching the girl.

"Why doesn't he use something like this? It's so light."

"Not enough of it to make an entire suit. He's a big man, you know." He said, sliding from his chair to retrieve the rest of the fabric, when he came back to the table, the girl was turning one of the grapple guns over in her hand. "There may not be enough for him, but for someone a lot smaller, that's another story."

Delilah reared her head up at that. "You never come down here without your father, let alone toting a bag. Does your father know what you're up to?"

"God, I hope not."

Fox was shaking his head. "I'm not going to lie to him if he asks."

"Then I'll have to make sure he doesn't ask." She rolled the grappler in her hand. "Got anything bigger?"

"Why don't you show me what you have in mind and I'll see what I can drum up."

Del immediately opened her bag, pulling out a note book, hidden between some pages of math, were few designs and algorithms for distance, speed and trajectory scrawled out in pen. Every page screamed that it was a product of sleepless night. "I can make minor adjustments." She said, as the man took the notebook from her. " But anything major might get me busted, he hoards most of the tools. And I definitely can't go back up there without something for him."

Lucius dark eye's crinkled when he smiled. "Child, who do you think you're talking to?" She could have hugged him right then and there. "Just tell me where to send this stuff…though I'm a bit surprised, no bats?"

"No. He'd know it was me immediately. I want to hold that off for as long as I can."


	8. Promises And Clues

**A/N** A bit more layering, Sibling rivalry, and if you catch it, a clue that someone might show their face in the next chapter. Thank you everyone for the reviews, you have no idea how motivating they can be. As for bumping the rating down to Teen, I'm a little unsure of that, only because I know what's coming. It's been mild, yes, but only because Del has not fully been involved, witnessing things with her own eyes. But I'll definitely keep the suggestion in mind, especially if the chapters don't shape quite like I expect.

* * *

><p>I, like so many in this world have my own fears, rational and otherwise. Death tends to top the list for so many. I look at it like this, death is inevitable. No one gets out of it. (Unless you're Ra's al Ghul.) The eternal sleep at the end of a life is nowhere near my list of 'things to be afraid of' but being alone for whatever time I have left on this earth, that's another matter.<p>

To many I'm just a rich little girl who has the world at her feet. But really…my world is rather small. Dad, Dick, Alfred and Sam; the pillars of my life. If one of them should fall, I don't know what I would do. When the Dark Knight leaves this house, there's always a risk that he might not come back. It's enough to keep me pacing the floor of the bat cave into the wee hours of the morning. He _hates_ that. He never wanted a life where someone would be stuck, anxiously waiting for him to come home. It's not something he foresaw taking on the role as Batman. Nor did it occur to him what would happen when he finally stepped into the role of a parent. I've learned that what my father does has its own risks.

He's learning to accept that there are people who do care about what happens to him. And I'm still learning not to hold my breath when he leaves. I have faith in my father, but even I know when he's starting to get in over his head. My father is not one to ask for help. That suits me fine, it just means I never have to tell him when I'm helping him.

* * *

><p>When Alfred Pennyworth glanced in the backseat, both Wayne children had their faces tilted out toward their own perspective windows, the sunlight flickering across their faces as the buildings rose and fell, casting shadows down on the car. It couldn't get any more awkward.<p>

"Master Dick will be waiting for you at the manor, Miss Wayne."

The girl seemed to sink back as she reached up to push the wisps of dark brown hair that had skirted around her face. At that moment, she looked exhausted, as if the front she had built was let down.

"Dad told me he might."

"He has a son now, he doesn't need that fill in."

Just as easily as Delilah had let her guard down, it was built right back up.

"Let's get this clear." She said evenly, turning ever so slightly to the dark haired boy across from her. "As far as I'm concerned. He _is _my brother. Which is more than I can say for you."

Damian's grim set mouth opened. "I'm his blood son." He shot out.

"And?"

"That's all he needs. He doesn't even need _you_. "

Delilah flopped back on the seat, rolling her big blue eyes at the ceiling of the cab. "Yes he does…" She said with a sigh. "You just have no idea. You only know what your mother and grandfather told you. You know _of _him. But you don't _know_ him."

"_Hmph_."

"_Hmph_, yourself, Ninja Boy."

From the reflection of her window, she could see Damian peering over his shoulder at her. Was he not used to people challenging him back? The thought was quickly banished when the Manor began to rise from the top of the cliff, Del spotted Dick, parked on the steps.

"Really, Miss Wayne!" Alfred called, the car hadn't fully come to a stop and the girl had simply hopped out with a Doberman in her wake.

"So this is Grayson?" Well, fuck. Look who's a bit of a copycat. Dick looked a little miffed staring at the nameless boy, but Damien only looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. "A lot shorter than I thought he would be."

Delilah didn't hesitate; she slapped him on the back of the head. "Jesus, you're rude." The boy quickly turned on his heel, if Del hadn't dodged she would have gotten a foot in the face, but that didn't stop him from advancing. She was blocking and dogging him the best she could, but he was quicker than she expected. She knew it, and now so did he.

"Come on! Can't you fight back?!" He jeered, when she caught his hand, he then made a move to sweep her legs out from under her, but instead of spilling to the ground, the girl bent back, pushing off her free hand into a back hand spring, creating enough space between them for Dick and Alfred to fit. "You alright, Miss Wayne?" Alfred asked, aware that the girl was breathing rather heavily. "He's a quick little shit." She breathed, forcing herself to stretch her arms to the sky and take a deep breath as the old man's face turned a bright shade of pink.

"Sorry, Alfred. It just came out."

"I'd say your filter is broken again." He commented, turning then to steer Damion away from the driveway and toward the house. "This way, Master Damien."

Damien paused on the steps, his dark green eyes landing on Delilah. "I told you, he doesn't need the fill in. And he certainly doesn't need you."

Dick had his fingers locked behind his head, he was watching the boy and the butler disappear inside the house, when Delilah approached him. "Who's the kid?"

"My brother."

He turned to her at that. "Excuse me?"

"Talia and Dad." She grumbled out, stomping up the steps with Dick just behind her. "When did this happen?!"

"Talia just dropped him in Dad's lap last night."

"After all the times he bitched at me about being careful…"

Delilah held the door for him but he shook his head. "Go put some jeans on and meet me in the garage."

He didn't have to tell her twice.

* * *

><p>Damian slipped from the house quietly, paying no mind to how the damp grass clung to his shoes. What he didn't like was how the dew left evidence of his presence. Just in front of him the orange remnants of the sun was sinking just behind the trees. And somewhere, just beyond reach of the balding branches he could hear the revving of a bike as it shifted gears.<p>

"Now, you're goosing it on purpose." Dick accused, becoming visible, as Damian waded soundlessly through the trees. Judging by the wide smile on his face, he didn't seem to mind that the girl was horsing around. Grandfather never would have stood for that. There was never time for such immaturity. Leaning against the soft bark of a birch, the boy slid down into an easy crouch, watching the bike zip past him. She floored it across the yard, leaning in with a sharp turn when Grayson gestured for her to circle back. Even from here, the world could hear her whoops of joy. The boy just shook his head.

Bringing the bike in front of Grayson, she shut it down, kicking out the stand to let it lean as she pulled the helmet off, revealing a smile just as wide and ridiculous as his. "So?"

"I'm so proud of you!" Dick cried in pure mockery, swinging an arm around Delilah. "She's so grown up!"

"Oh, God, you _are_ a dork." But then quietly, "Thanks, Dick."

"But I'm an awesome dork, right?"

"Duh." The girl looked down at her helmet then back up at Grayson. "I don't know how Dad is going to handle this."

Damian turned his head to the sound of the gate being opened; he watched wordlessly as a black car slid through and began its ascent up the curving drive. "I guess we're about to find out." Damian felt his lips twist, as their father slid from the car. He walked right to the ledge of the drive and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"See ya up there. Whatever you do, don't go for the defensive right off the bat. Remember you and I have to have a talk. So don't piss him off too much."

Delilah didn't say anything, but put her helmet back in place; kick started the bike and raced up the driveway. Though to her credit she took the curves easily, playing the part of a novice who was utterly proud of herself rather than a girl who picked up a skill at a rate her so called teacher wasn't expecting. Dick sighed, and started to march up to the house, but the man paused. "Yo, Kid, C'mon."

Damian pulled himself from his crouch slowly. "What? Didn't think we noticed?" Damian didn't say a word, listening intently for the voices that broke the layering evening. "And just what is this?"

"A dirt bike?" Delilah said dubiously, still grinning when she peeled herself from the bike. She might have been happy with herself, Bruce Wayne on the other hand….was not. "And what if something happened?" He wanted to know, following her when she began to walk the bike to the garage.

"Ever see one of these before?" Delilah asked, shaking her helmet. "I could be wrong but it could be this thing that people wear in case of accidents."

Dick immediately put his palms into his face. So much for not hopping on the defensive.

"Delilah, you-"

"Have limits. _I know._" Del supplied, lining the bike back into its place. She didn't have to turn around to know he had that stern look on his face. She could feel his eyes on her back. "Don't you think I know when I'm reaching my limits?!" She cried turning swiftly on her heel. "I know when I can't catch my breath; I know when my heart rate is getting a little too high. I know to stop when I feel like I'm getting dizzy. And none of that happened." She lifted her arms, but the just flopped to her sides. "I just wanted to learn how."

"Then why didn't you come to me?"

"Would you have said okay, if I did?"

Her father's lips tightened, his silence was all the answer that she needed.

"Exactly." She moved to buzz right by him, but he stepped right into her path. When he wouldn't move out her way she turned back to the garage, fisting her hands. "I get it. I get it." She whispered. "You don't want anything to happen to me."

"Someone gets babied."

In the seconds it took for the words to come from Damian's mouth, Delilah grabbed the first thing she could and flung it at him. The boy simply caught the wrench in his hand, not even flinching when it met his palm with a crack. "Still too slow." He said, dropping the wrench to the ground with a clatter.

Dalman lunged, but found his father's hand fist in his shirt, Grayson had moved into the garage, and was restraining the girl from leaving. "Whoa, no round 2."

"Why not? It'd be quick." Damian sneered.

"C'mon then you little shit."

"KNOCK IT OFF!"

Oh, fuck. Batman voice. Delilah relaxed, letting Dick release her.

Her father had Damian in an arm bar. He wasn't letting go. "I catch you riding without a helmet, that's it. You're done." With that he drug Damian off toward the house. When his shadow disappeared from sight, Del slid to the floor.

"Well, that went over like a fart in church."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious." Delilah snipped, watching Dick as he put the wrench away. "Damian's right…he always wears the kids gloves with me."

At that Dick wandered over and slid himself to the floor next to her, stretching out his long legs as he leaned against a beam. "Was he ever like that with you? Or Barbra? Or Jason?"

Dick leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "Not exactly. He was hard with us at times, but we never fell into the same category as you either."

When she didn't say anything he looked back down. "You're a different ball of wax, whether you want to admit it or not. He wasn't in love with our mothers. He didn't come in and out of our lives before we came here. He didn't raise us from the age of a pre-schooler. And yes, he cares for all of us, even if he can be a real big grumpy pain in the ass, but you he loves. It's not like we ever drew him pictures with crayons and glitter you know…"

"Oh, god, I did do that…" Delilah sighed, "He even left one of them in the bat cave for almost a month and a half."

"And I haven't even gotten to all the health junk yet." At that Delilah hung her head. "Really? Do we need to cover this part?" But when Dick held up his hand, she quieted, bringing her up her knees and tucking them under her chin.

"It's not something he can visibly fight. He has to sit back and watch you fight something alone. That's not how he operates. He takes on a Robin or a Batgirl, to fight together. He can't jump in and protect you the same way he would for us. Do you know how much that that drives him crazy? So the only thing he knows to do is to kid-glove you."

"So I don't fight at all…"

Delilah inter locked her fingers and released them again. "But it keeps me from living…"

"And that's where you two butt heads."

"Why do you think he's never took me on?" She asked, surprised the words even came out at all. But then Dick sighed. "I think it's more about him, than you."

He said giving her a glance. "Out there, he must be Batman. He can't be distracted from it. When he gets distracted, he starts making mistakes, and we both know how well he handles those. I think he sees you as a major distraction."

When Del's shoulder's began to slump, Dick turned toward her. "Who's you're Dad? Batman? Or Bruce Wayne?"

Delilah furrowed her brows. "Both…" But as the word slid out she understood what he was getting at. "He can't be both when he's on patrol." Dick nodded. "He knows that too. I think he's not sure if he could keep them separated if you were involved."

"Makes sense."

Dick reached over and slapped the girl on the back. "While we're on this subject, I wanted to talk to you about something…"

At that Delilah sat up.

"A Kid came to me, he knows that your father is Batman, And that I'm Nightwing."

Delilah felt her mouth fall open. "How?!"

Dick worked himself to his feet. "He has proof that he pieced together on some hunches." He said, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. "I've been running him through his paces….Del, he's good. Very good, and he wants to help. "

Before Delilah could say anything, Dick held up his hands. "I know, I know how you feel about it, but we both know that your Dad needs an extra hand out there."

Delilah crossed her arms in front of her. "I want to meet him. " At that Dick's lips split into one of his wide grins. "I was hoping you'd say that. I asked him to stop by on Sunday night, while we stuff our faces with Chinese and poke fun at movies." He told her, sliding an arm around her shoulder so he could begin to drag her toward the house.

"Okay, but now I have something to ask _you_." Dick froze right there on the pathway. "It's one of those fantastic and stupid ideas of yours isn't it?"

"Oh, but they're fun." She teased. He simply sighed, rolled his eyes and looked down at his shoes. "Okay…okay." He said looking at her. "Let's hear it."

"Dad won't take me on...but would you? Or could you?"

Dick went silent.

" I want to see if I can. If I can't if something happens, I'll stop."

"You're really not ready." When she opened her mouth to protest he stopped her. "After regionals, I will take you out for one night to see if it's a possibility." She almost started jumping up and down right there. "For the next three weeks, when I pop up here, I want to see you training your butt off."

"Damian almost handed my ass to me." Delilah shot Dick a glance; "Don't tell him I said that. "

"No, I won't tell him. But you did almost get your ass handed to you by a ten year old."

"Oh come on! He's been trained by the league of assassins since day one!."

"Three weeks."

Delilah watched as Dick headed for his car. Three weeks. It wasn't a very long stretch to prepare from. Lucius was a man of his word, he'd send her the suit, but he wasn't a miracle worker. It didn't give much time for trial runs. She'd have to make the best of them. Not only that, she'd have to avoid Nightwing and Batman completely until then. It wasn't going to be an easy feat. "I'll probably see you later. He's going to be grumpy as fuck."

"Sorry…"

* * *

><p>"In the cave?"<p>

Alfred nodded, watching as the girl circled around the kitchen. "Neither one is hungry, and this may be a futile attempt, but are you hungry?" The girl smiled. "Alfred, I can't speak for the mini Bruce, but if you make something with bacon, I bet I can get the Bats to scarf down at least half of it."

Delilah, counted the steps as she wandered down to the batcave, slowly letting her eyes adjust to the dim light as she descended into the earth, listening to the bat chatter and the sound of the falls flooding in from the ocean. Damian was standing up on the platform with his hands behind his back. "This must be fake." He complained staring at the black and white photo of Del throwing a punch into the Joker's cell. Delilah only looked up and shrugged. "Nope that's real." She said, making her way to the computer.

Her father turned his head, just as she picked up half the sandwich off of her plate. "You do know I was teasing about you hanging that, right?" She framed the article as a gag. Looks like the joke was on her. Batman did have a sense of humor.

"You never specified where I would hang it." His eyes slid to the sandwich in her hand, he took it from her. "What is it with you and the bacon? It's not good for that heart."

"Is that why you're always swiping my food? Batman, the bacon Nazi."

He said nothing, he simply stood up, and handed her the headset, the cue that he was leaving.

"I'm coming with you." Damian said, hopping over the railing and down to the floor.

"_No_."

Batman and daughter both stared at each other. "Get off my brain waves." Delilah quipped, forcing her father to shake his head, as he all but swallowed the half sandwich whole.

"Face it, if I can't go, neither can you." With that Delilah plopped herself into the chair. She settled the headset in place, not that he ever asked for much. Maybe the occasional blueprint. Delilah tried not to look back as she heard the boosters firer up. But of course, old habits die hard. She watched him go. Leaving her and Damian alone with the bats.

"It's a crock. I'm far superior to your skill set."

"You do like pointing out the obvious, don't you, Ninja Boy?"

"Watch that sarcasm."

"Oh? Offends your sensibilities does it? You're making it way too easy to push your buttons." Delilah watched his reflection in the monitor, watching him wander closer as she started to go through her notes. "I don't know what your mother told you to expect. But he hasn't taken on a robin in more than ten years, he's not going to take you on, just because you're here, or because you're related by blood. You can trust me on that."

She watched his eyes fall to the plate beside her. "Take it." After she was done analyzing she wasn't going to want to eat for a while anyway. Damian didn't hesitate. The sandwich was gone in a few greedy bites. "Geez, hungry or something?"

"I was taught that you don't eat until your superiors do."

At that Delilah sighed and swiveled the chair around. "I would throw that rule right out the window while you're here. Dad-"

"Father."

Delilah cleared her throat. "_Dad_ hardly ever eats, and it's a miracle if he gets more than 3 hours of sleep at night." A miracle she called Alfred. With that, the girl turned back to the computer, crossing her legs inside the chair. "Let's see what the Bats is up to." Like normal, his end of the microphone was muted, but that didn't mean she couldn't bounce the feed off of his camera to the computer. She just hoped he didn't turn it off.

Delilah could feel Damian's weight leaning on her chair as he leaned over her, staring at the grainy footage. "Where is that?" He asked, watching his father ascend to the roof a building he didn't recognize. At first Delilah didn't answer her fingers were flying over the keyboard, pulling up the schematics of the structure on a separate screen.

"The Zesti Cola bottling plant…"

Del quickly sent him the new schematics, tapping her fingers on the arms of the chair when she watched her father test the new hologram.

_"When did you update this?"_

"Not even 30 seconds ago. Apparently they've been busy with a few remodels, especially in the lower end." _Why are you there? What are you up to? _But she just couldn't force the words out fast enough. The feed went black. "You're welcome."

"Complete black out, Miss?" Delilah listened to the sound of Alfred's footsteps.

"Of course." She muttered. "That's what I get for letting him know I can see where he is and what he's doing."

Alfred set the tray he had down. Caffeine. Oh, thank God.

"Brown sugar instead of white?"

"Yes, Master Damian."

"Lemon?"

"Yes."

Delilah reached for a mug, watching the boy and that dainty china cup. If he was going to be here all night, he was going to need something bigger. But Alfred simply shrugged when the girl glanced at him.

"I suppose this is adequate."

"Persnickety, much?"

But Damien only raised his dimpled chin at her. When one is raised in a higher station, they should act like it." But his sister was rolling her eyes.

"Save it for someone who cares." With that the girl settled in front of the computer with her mug.

"Master Damian-"

In the reflection of the screen, Delilah could see Damian peeking under a sheet. One of Dad's projects in progress. It was neat bike, but it only worked for 6 seconds flat. "He can't make it any worse, and if he manages to, it's his ass." It would give the kid something to do. Alfred only sighed and began his way back up the stairs.

"Surely I'm getting too old for this."

Delilah saw it this way, it kept them from having to speak to each other. She simply directed him when he started going through drawers and cabinets. "Top left, all the way in the back."

Damian looked down at the part in his hand and back at her. She wasn't even looking at him, but she knew what he was after. "Do you know where absolutely everything is?" he asked.

"Pretty much. I spend a lot of time down here." If she didn't, she'd practically never see her father.

It fell into an easy pattern, though the random knocks, bangs and sound of power tools took some getting used to. Nights like this, it was just her…and the bats. The hours blurred close together, marked only by the times Delilah had reached the bottom of her cup.

"Who is that?"

Delilah had her chin resting on her hand, her eyes up at the screen. She had seen these pictures so many times, and yet still they stirred everything in her. She could still feel the blood soaked night gown clinging to her, she could still remember the smell of gunpowder and the over overwhelming metallic tang of blood.

"My mother…" The words left her softer than she had anticipated. She quickly enlarged a picture of her mother, one where she was smiling and her big green eyes were full of light…and life.

"Our mother's look rather similar don't you think?" Damian asked, trying the best he could to wipe the thick black grease from his hands. Had he looked down at his hands any longer, he might have missed the quick flash of a smile at the corner of his sister's mouth. "When I met your mother for the first time…for a split second I thought she might have been…" The girl shrugged. "I guess it proves that Dad has a very particular taste in women."

"Your mother was just something to fill the void."

Delilah could feel her fingers digging into the chair. _Don't. Don't play into it_. She told herself. Surely that's what the boy wanted.

"That's what Mother says."

"Unlike her, mine didn't have to drug anyone." Delilah said coolly, cursing when she realized her cup was empty and so was the teapot.

"What's that?" When she turned her attention back to the screen, she noticed Damian pointing to something in one of the photos. After all the times she looked at these, she had never noticed it before. Her mother was upturned, her finger tips up toward the camera. As if she had forced them that way. Delilah zoomed in, realizing that there was black ink faintly written on her finger.

..- .- .- ….- …..

"Morse code?"

The chair flung back, forcing Damian to jump out of the way.

"She left clues, this entire time."

"2,1,1,4,5?"

"I know what it goes to." Though the words were more to the air then to Damian himself. He craned his neck hearing the door open from the world up stairs. "Yo! D!" Grayson came down the stairs a few a time. "Have you heard anything from the Bats?"

"No. Hasn't said a peep in the last few hours." She said quickly. Dick crossed his arms, watching the girl frantically move about the cave. "Del, what's going on?" He asked, watching her slip into an oversized leather jacket.

"She's all in a tiff over something trivial." Damian stated, jerking his thumb to the monitor behind him. His eyes widened.

"Whoa! Whoa! No!" he shouted, scrambling when he noticed she had that damn helmet he gave her on her head. Delilah only paused as she swung her leg over the first bike she had the keys to. "Get out of my way, Dick."

"And what about your Dad?"

"He'll come to _me_. Keep that one out of trouble." She said pointing at Damian.

There was nothing but a line of exhaust trailing her out of the bat cave. Dick looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "I knew it! I fucking knew it!" Nothing but trouble.

* * *

><p>Riding this early in the morning made it easy, the roads were nearly empty, and what traffic there was, the girl weaved around easily, paying no mind to the street lights as they flickered across her helmet in brief flashes. She knew this route, even when the houses on the streets had changed over the years; she still knew the way they mapped out toward the city like veins. The old residential street she cruised on looked as if it had aged in her absence; nothing was familiar, say for one tired dark house.<p>

Delilah cringed at the sound of her feet on the driveway, fearing they were so loud she could wake the entire neighborhood. Stepping onto the porch she felt like she couldn't breathe, forcing herself to wrench open the storm door. In the midst of digging into her pockets for the right key, her eyes caught the old scars on the bottom of the door. Marks from tiny fingernails, were still etched into the wood. Dad had replaced the flooring, changed out the windows. But he couldn't erase what happened here.

The breath she was holding slid out of her in a whoosh when she stepped inside. She was greeted by furniture draped in long white sheets. The smell of dust and age, but lingering…ever so faintly Delilah could smell home. Making quick work of the security alarm, Delilah fished a flashlight out of her pocket. The house was nearly empty now, but there had been things that her father had left, things he wanted her to go through. She just never had the heart to do it.

Delilah wandered her way to her mother's room, surprised that the steps were fewer than she remembered. It too smelled of paint and dust but when Delilah opened the closet, tears sprang to her eyes. There lingering amongst the clothes and shoes was the scent of her mother.

Delilah eased herself to her knees, letting her fingers feel for that small hole she knew to be somewhere in the closet. When she found it, she lifted the board away. "It's still here." She breathed, realizing that sitting there under a layer of dust, was a safe. Placing the flashlight in her mouth, the girl crawled on her belly to reach it. Too heavy to lift out of the small crawlspace, Delilah had no choice but to force her fingers to reach the key pad. 2,1,1,4,5. To her relief it came open. Scooping out the contents, she worked her way to her knees. A bundle of letters simply marked with the letter P. A soft leather bound book, filled with page upon page of her mother's elegant hand. And a long metal box. When Delilah finally opened it, a soft stone pendent in the shape of a bird fell into her lap. Inside there were a few other things, pictures mostly, of a blonde haired boy and his bird. She picked up the neatly folded letter.

_I've done a lot of things wrong, so I'm hoping that this can make things right one day, maybe not for me, but for you. It's Bane's Favor. We were all given a totem, carved from the rock of Peña Dura. Should something happen, take this to him. He cannot refuse what you ask of him, as long as you have this. Take care of it, and keep it safe and tell no one you have it. _

_Ben_

Delilah folded the letter back up, sliding all the contents in the box, into the bag she had with her, she only paused when she put her fingers on the floor. She could feel the vibrations of movement. Someone else was in this house. Delilah slowly pulled herself to her feet, sliding the pendent in her pocket. Just as the floor creaked behind her, the girl whirled, brandishing the flashlight, which her father caught.

"What are you doing?"

"Funny, I could ask you the same thing." She retorted, placing the boards back over the crawlspace.

"I think I know why Mom was targeted." She added stepping out of the closet, she had to stop and blink the sudden threat of tears away. "Sorry, it –"

"Still smells like her."

"Yeah…" When she finally turned and faced him, Delilah felt her mouth drop open. "What the hell happened to you?!" She asked, shining the flashlight on the wound she noticed on his arm.

"Someone who calls himself the Red Hood."

"Jesus, he tried to fill you full of expanding rounds." Had it not been for the suit, he probably would have. The rounds were made to create a larger exit than its entrance, but thankfully the suit seemed to slow the momentum enough that they at least didn't exit his body.

"There's another one up in my shoulder…I-I can't move my arm."

"And your knee." The girl cringed. Damn that had to hurt, on closer inspection she could see crystals of rock salt lining the entry of his arm. "I can try to get this one out." She told him, whipping the pair of tweezers from his utility belt before he could. "Whoever this Red Hood is, he's a sadistic shit."

His only response was to grunt at her. "I almost got it, I'm trying to keep any more salt from spilling out." She worked the tweezers carefully, trying to unhook the barbs of the round that had yet to fully expand from his flesh. It hit the floor with a thud.

"Thank you…" he breathed, forcing himself to flex his arm when he bent down and picked up the nasty round.

"Alfred is going to have to remove the other two for you…I don't think I could get those out with just a pair of tweezers." She handed him the tweezers when he held out his hand for them. "Me and the dirt bike, you and your bullet holes. Who takes the bigger risks here?" He seemed a little surprised by the statement. "I don't like it when shit happens to you, either you know." But she shrugged. "I also know it comes with the territory."

"What did you find?" Of course. Batman was all business. Delilah pulled the pendent from her pocket. "I think this is what they were after." She said, putting the object in his hand. "Who is Ben?" she asked, watching him turn it over.

"Your uncle."

"Mom never mentioned him." She said, crossing her arms. But Batman shook his head. "She wouldn't have. Ben is Bird. Mind you their only half siblings from what I understand, but your mother certainly wasn't comfortable with his connections. Every time he'd contact her, she'd pack up and move."

"She was afraid of him…of who he had around him."

He nodded.

"She only moved back to Gotham because of your grandmother's health."

Delilah shifted herself on her feet. It was strange thing to be discussing a family she had never known.

"She told me everything…but I didn't know that he had sent her this."

"She wrote the combination to the safe box on her finger in Morse code of all things. Damian noticed it in one of the pictures."

"In all the years…"

"I didn't see it either." But then every time she saw those pictures, she was right back here again, reliving the moment frame by frame in the back of her mind.

"We were too emotionally involved. Even if you did spot it…you wouldn't know what it went to." Delilah shrugged crossing the small space of the room. "I only saw Mom use the safe once. I never really thought about it again."

"About when do you think this was?"

Delilah bit her lip walking from the door to the closet as if she could still see her mother hovering over the crawlspace. "It was after my surgery. My stitches were itching…" She shook her head. "it was probably only a couple weeks before…"

Delilah wasn't sure if it was relief or agony she saw flicker across her father's face, though in truth it was hard to tell with the cowl. She hadn't hidden it from him. It was more likely that she wasn't able to tell him. If she could have then maybe…

"Someone out there must think I've had that stupid rock all this time."

"That would explain the break-ins here over the last few years."

Delilah could have kicked something. "How does this tie in to everything else? Did they simply try to make Mom's death look like another Zesti Cola mishap?"

Batman reached into his belt, showing the vials syrup he had tucked away. "I went and took some samples while I was over in that part of town, there were different tanks in different areas, including the new locations they added to the basement floors."

"Gillespe and St. James didn't ransack the house. They went right after Mom. They were told to, and I want to know who's responsible for sending them."

"So do I."

Delilah didn't fight him when he gave her a push toward the door. Stepping out of the house, the girl shuddered, trying to shake off the feelings that the house had given her.

"You're right. He did go right to you."

Delilah eyed Nighwing curiously as he lounged on her bike, it was almost as if had been waiting on them to come outside. "Magic." She said, aware that Batman all but steered her away from the bike and toward the Bat-mobile. Delilah tried not to think about the fact she had to ride home with her father. The last few times that happened, the night didn't end on a good note.

"So…can I drive?"

"No."

"You're wounded."

"I'm not hurt _that_ badly."


	9. Yellow cowl and the Red Hood

**A/N: It's early for a change. Yay. There's quite a bit going on in this one. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

><p>The clouds clung low to the ground that morning, heavy and hung-over with moisture. And yet Delilah could still see the little black shape, piercing through the mist.<p>

"Not you too." She heard Alfred scoff; turning from the glass doors, Delilah tried to offer the old butler a smile. "I couldn't sleep." She told him, trying to ignore that headshake he gave her. Indeed she probably crawled in bed three hours ago. Most sane people tried for at least six hours of sleep.

"Dad's still sleeping right?" God she hoped so.

"Of course, though he'll be none too pleased."

Delilah felt her lips twitch just a little. It meant Alfred had to play dirty and give him something to make him sleep, or else he'd be in the bat cave. "He'll brood, and then he'll get over it."

"Undoubtedly. I'm beginning to wonder if I should medicate everyone in the house say for the dog." But as the butler turned back to the pressing, Delilah spoke, not even chancing to look in his direction.

"Alfred?"

"Yes Miss?"

"I need a favor."

Alfred straightened himself, unsure if he cared for the child's sudden serious tone. "Of course, Miss."

"Tomorrow, I need to make a visit to Arkahm." She peered over her shoulder, her blue eyes so unwavering. "Dad can't know…" she said softly. "At least…not right away." When he didn't immediately respond she spun around. "I know, I know it's a lot to ask of you. And I'm sorry, I don't ever want to put you in that position…but there's something I _have_ _to_ do." She wrung her fingers together, looking at him, but then casted those blue eyes down at her hands. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"Alright, Delilah, alright."

"Thank you…"

"Don't thank me yet."

The girl didn't say another word to him. She listened to his footsteps as he carried the pressing toward the stairs. Only then did she slide through the door and into the outside world, leaving Jax to hunker down at the window. _This is going to smart. _ But what other choices did she have?

Del made short work of stepping out of her shoes and socks, leaving them on the porch she waded onto the lawn, trying not to shudder as the icy wet tendrils of the grass grasped at her feet. The bottoms of her feet had begun to grow numb when she felt Damian's weight on her shoulder; He had used her, flipping over her as if she were nothing more than a statue standing their motionless in the garden.

The second his feet landed on the ground, he came at her. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"

A smart remark beckoned to fall out of her mouth, but the girl bit it down, forcing herself to bend or else get caught by that damn blade. _I have to get the blade away from him or I'm fucked. _ It wasn't about beating him, but unlike her father, or Dick, he wasn't going to call it quits at the slightest provocation. That's what she wanted. She wanted him to keep coming at her. Damian wasn't going to stop, and neither were the creatures that crawled out from Gotham's underbelly.

She knew this garden; in a few steps she was going to hit a birdbath. _One_…_two_… on three Del dropped to the ground, sweeping Damian's leg as her arms bent back, separating the top of the birdbath from its base. The blade pierced it, but just as the stone started to crumble, Del held fast to the largest pieces, twisting the sword free from her brother's grip as he tried to recover himself from falling. Delilah tossed the sword and stone remnants, rushing him when she jumped to her feet.

"Even without it, you're still no match for me."

He swung, she ducked, and seizing his head she kneed him as quick and as hard as she could before driving him back when she released him with a shove. _He has enough space to make a kick. _When he went to strike with a kick just like she hoped, she locked it to her side with an arm, trying not to think about how much it stung, but instead reacted by pushing down his shoulders while she kicked his free foot out from under him, dropping him to the ground.

When he rolled to his side, pushing off the ground to jump to his feet, he was smiling. It wasn't a comfortable thing to see. "He did teach you something after all." But it wasn't enough. Delilah knew that and so did he.

Damian was quick with his feet. She could block the first or the second kick, but by the third, even when she was blocking her head, it was enough to stagger her; he dropped to his hands, and kicked her feet out from under her.

Hitting the near frozen ground almost felt like concrete. She tumbled back and to her feet, throwing up her hands to block his fists just in time. He was backing her toward a large statue, before his advances pushed her too close, she turned, running at the statue, using it to flip herself over him, forcing them to trade positions. She was able to get a few good shots in with her fists before he suddenly launched at her, hitting her square in chest with both feet. Needless to say it knocked the wind out of her.

Del could barely hear Jax barking from inside the house, she was too focused on trying to duck under his legs when kicked, spun and kicked again. He was kicking so hard and so fast, she could hear the air whistling through his clothes, she had no choice but to slide back. Having a good amount of space, she round housed him, which he ducked. He ducked the second one, but however took the third. He then locked her leg just as she had done to him. _Oh, shit. _But the realization came too late, he kicked out her leg and she hit the ground yet again. This time he dove right on top of her.

They rolled. Damian snagged the sword, just as Delilah's fingers could reach the sheath that he must have tossed aside earlier. It was the only thing blocking the blade from her neck. The girl was trying to keep her lungs from freezing up on her as the dew began to soak through her shirt. She was working on locking his feet, getting ready to shove him to the side when the blade made contact with her neck. Del's eyes went wide.

"Why Sister, you look frightened."

Del could feel beads of blood rolling down her neck and into her hair, just as the morning was broken by the sound of shattering glass. The boy had no choice but to roll to his side as the doberman's body smacked into him. His teeth locked into the boy's shoulder.

"DOWN!" Del yelled, securing Damian's blade before he could use it on the dog. Jax let go, positioning himself to stand over the girl and she worked to sit up. In the sudden commotion, Delilah caught Dick's shadow out of the corner of her eye. She didn't even hear his feet hitting the ground when he came bursting onto scene. He went straight for Damian.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! She's your sister!"

"Calm down Grayson, if I wanted to kill her I would have done it already." The boy said, nursing his shoulder with his hand. "Stupid mongrel."

"Why you little-"

"_Stop it_."

At the sound of the girl's voice, Dick stopped advancing. "I instigated it." Delilah told him, working her way to her knees. When Dick shot her a look, he found she wasn't even facing him. She had her attention on Jax.

"Why the hell would you do that?"

Finding nothing but a couple shallow cuts, Delilah felt her shoulders relax. "Good boy." She whispered, using him to help herself up to her feet. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, her whole body felt like a bruise.

"Unlike you or Dad, he doesn't quit when I start to struggle."

Damian paused at that, but said nothing as he slipped back inside the house, not even caring about the broken glass under his feet.

"This is _not_ what I meant when I said you needed to train. Jesus, Delilah! I don't even think the kid knows the difference between a fight and a sparring match."

"But it's exactly what I need." Delilah said, walking Jax back inside. She tried not to focus too much on Alfred's shock. "Alfred, could you get me the vet kit?"

"Of-of course, and what about yourself?" He asked, disappearing into a small room off of the kitchen. Delilah reached up, touching the cut on her neck. It was wet, but it wasn't deep by any means.

"I'll live."

"And what shape would you have been in if Jax hadn't broken through the window?" Alfred asked, shoving the pet supplies at Dick rather than handing them over to the girl. He had broken out the first aid kit anyway.

"I don't know…."

* * *

><p>The second Alfred Pennyworth cleared the door into Delilah's wing; the boy took his chance, sliding in before it closed behind him. But of course, Pennyworth wasn't what one would call a fool.<p>

"Please keep your hands and blades to yourself this time, Master Damian." The old man told him, not even bothering to spare the juvenile a glance as he made his way down the hall, leaving Damian to feed his curiosity.

The floor was warmed by the pools of sunlight that seemed to pour into the hall. Damian simply peeked into the rooms as he went. None of the rooms were large, but they were adequate and functional. An office, a library, a bathroom. He could only assume that her bedroom was at the very end of the hall, leaving only one room left to investigate.

Even before reaching the doorway he could hear something rattling. Damian slid into the room without notice, aligning himself along the wall by the door, just in time to see his sister release off of the high bar to create a layout and turn before catching herself back on the bar. One handed pirouettes, seamless flying straddles, and turns that she would suddenly throw into reverse. It was her connections back to the uneven bars that caused the rattling sounds he had heard. He was so busy watching her turn, twist and straddle the air that he didn't see Alfred move closer to him.

"She makes it look easy doesn't she?"

"You mean she makes learning from Grayson look easy."

Delilah made a clean dismount with a double backwards twisting somersault.

"Is it that hard for you to say you're impressed, Master Damian?" The butler asked, as they watched Grayson and Del high five one another. Damian didn't so much as utter a word.

"Might one suggest that a break is in order?" Alfred inquired, handing Delilah a towel and a bottle of water. "What time is it?" Delilah asked in breaths, trying to keep herself from guzzling the water too quickly.

"2 pm. Miss. I'll be attempting to rouse your father shortly."

"I've got to go. Dick, I'm sure you need to go home and sleep at some point." She said, dabbing off the thin sheen of sweat that had permeated on her face and neck.

Dick was giving a cockeyed grin. "Trying to get the hell out of Dodge before he gets up, aren't you?"

Delilah's lips pursed between sips. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm supposed to meet Sam in an hour."

Of course she wanted to get the hell out of there before her father awoke from his forced slumber. He'd be groggy, grouchy and wanting to know why the kitchen window was broken. She'd rather toy with the seedier side of Gotham than face his grumpy ass.

Alfred had one of his silver brows arched at her. "I must be hearing things, I was certain Miss Cleary's mother forbade you two from your escapades."

"Oh." Delilah's lips twisted into a devilish smirk. "You mean the conversation that you and I weren't supposed to hear." She amended. It forced Alfred to sigh. "I stand corrected. I assume no one in Dodge will be hungry?"

"I won't be. Sam's going to help me start going through Mom's things, and then we're going to the Java Junction. I'll probably grab something while I'm there. We're both seriously behind on homework." Del found herself holding her breath as the butler nodded. Yes. They were both going to meet at her mother's house. Yes, they were both going to stop at Java Junction. But only Sam would be staying there.

"Very well."

Dick however, did not seem to take the bait that easily. "Uh-huh."

"Hey, you're the one who always told me to pick and choose my battles."

Dick just shook his head. "Yeah, yeah." He slapped her on the shoulder. "I'll see you for practice. If you think you're sore now, you have no idea what tomorrow's going to feel like."

"I'm going to hate you all the way to regionals, aren't I?"

He just simpered at her before disappearing down the hall. With any luck, she wouldn't see him for the rest of the day. But of course with his departure, it only left her and Damian once again.

"I see you made it in here." She said, stepping out into the hall and weaving her way into her room, well aware that he was not that far behind her. "It was easy."

"Says the kid who put my computer on lockdown the first time."

He watched her riffle through clothes as he stepped into her room. To his credit he stayed glued to the walls with his hands behind his back, he was more interested in the pictures she had. Some were of her mother and a child he could imagine was a much younger version of Delilah. In the pictures with Dick and even their father, he could see her grow and change right before his eyes.

His sister however, paid no attention to him as she slipped into the connecting bathroom to change. He was still scanning her photos and books when she popped back out. "That's my favorite one with Dad." She said, as he picked up a round frame from the shelf. Someone had managed to use a camera and got him both in mid-laugh on a blustery afternoon. "He doesn't laugh or smile all that much." Indeed, Bruce Wayne didn't have much to laugh or smile about. "You don't keep pictures, do you?" She asked, as she stepped into her closet.

"Not many, no."

He peered at her as he crouched down to read the titles on the bottom shelf, it was then he could see the jagged scar that poked just out of the top of her tank. "Where did you get that scar?" he asked. Delilah, who was in the midst of rolling up a sweater to pull it over her head, paused. "Open heart surgery, when I was four."

He was still staring when she pulled the fabric over her head and started to pull her hair free. "And where did the ones on your hands come from?"

"The night my mom died." It was all she offered as her boots made small scuffing sounds on the floor. "You're welcome to barrow any of the books I have, just put it back when you're done." She said, sliding into a brown leather jacket that matched her knee high lace up boots.

"As if you have anything I would want to read."

"Suit yourself." She said, crouching down to retrieve the sword she knew was still tucked just into the bed frame. Damian was staring at the ivory white sheath the second it slid from its hiding spot.

"Where-"

"Your mother."

She picked it up and handed it to him, watching him unsheathe the blade. "She said it was a gift. I never told Dad that she left it."

"You never learned to use it?"

"No. C'mon you see how he is with me, you actually think he'd teach me? You can use it, just put the other sword back in the wall plague."

"She gave it to _you_!" he snapped. "It was a gift, you-"

"I already told you I don't know how to use it. What? Are you going to teach me then?" Did he think she was intentionally disrespecting his mother by not using such a gift?

The boy's face twisted incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous. You lack the discipline."

Delilah threw up her hands. "I've got somewhere to be, I don't have time for this." With that she marched off to her bathroom, listening to the door of the wing shut behind him. The sword was lying on her bed. The only evidence that he had been there at all was the empty slot on a shelf.

* * *

><p>"Okay, now you have to spill, just what are you up to?"<p>

Delilah juggled the packages she had found on the porch as she pushed her way into the garage. With no electricity, they were forced to use what was left of the daylight that spilled through the windows of the garage door. Sliding the boxes onto the work bench next to the rest of the arsenal she had slowly been collecting, the teen stopped to take a breath, Watching Sam's face as her fingers lingered over the items that were displayed on the table. The smoke bombs, Taser guns, throwing stars, and a whip; all weapons. "You actually know how to use one of these things?" She asked, carefully picking on of the sharp pieces of metal off the table.

Del took it out of her hand, watching the Sam's eyes widen when it whizzed through the air and embedded it's self in the top beam of the garage door slicing through the paper target that Del had placed some time ago.

"Jesus Christ."

"Sam, are you sure you want to help me?"

"Y-yeah."

But Delilah wasn't making a face, she wasn't teasing and it wasn't looking like she was going to break out into a smile any time soon.

"Are you positive? I don't want-"

"Woman, shut up and open the box."

So Delilah did, slowly pulling the black Kevlar weave suit from the box. There was also a yellow cape and cowl. _Thank you, Lucius thank you. _

"Oh, shit. You're not doing what I think you're doing…"

Delilah crouched down by the box, finding the matching balaclava and mouth guard. The key piece that would keep her supplied with a little extra oxygen. "Yes I am."

"Fuck, Wayne-Badger. You _are_ crazy. What the hell would your Dad do?"

"He can't know. No one can know." Delilah shot out, rising from her couch.

"You kidding me?! Of course not! You're the only interesting friend I have. Just tell me what I can do to help you."

Delilah slid her phone out of her pocket, wandering toward the bench as she pried it open, exposing the innards of the device. But there, among the wires and boards was a small round object that didn't quite belong.

"What's that?" Sam asked pressing in to get a good look.

"A tracking device."

The girl's face pinched. "Ooh, Daddy doesn't trust you all that much does he?" Delilah put the phone back together. "More like his insurance policy to know where I am if something goes wrong." Delilah told her. She had broken her phone last year and found the device, but instead of removing it and letting him know she found it, she used it to her advantage.

"Is he that worried that someone's going to kidnap you or something?" But then again she was the sole heiress to the Wayne fortune. "They've taken people worth a lot less. I need you to keep this with you at the café tonight." Delilah bent down, routing through the box until she found a small device that looked quite similar to a hands free phone. She tossed it to Sam. "Microphone." The girl was more than pleased to try it on. "Good, then I can talk to you without looking crazy."

Delilah held up the mouth piece. "Exactly, you'll just be a girl on the phone at a computer."

Sam ripped the headset off. She could hear Delilah talking through the earbud. But nothing seemed to be coming from Delilah herself. "The guard cancels all noise…so they won't be able to hear you…"

"Not unless I want them to." Delilah replied, removing the piece from her mouth. "I'm just wanting to test out the equipment tonight. So it'll only be for a couple hours."

"What about the Batman or Nightwing?" Sam asked, as she struggled to sit down by the open box, pulling out the gloves and boots.

"Avoidance. I need you to relay their locations if they're mentioned on the scanner. They'll turn me over to the police in a heartbeat. Imagine how well that would blow over."

Samantha had her head tilted. "Scanner?"

"Microphone is tied into a police scanner." Del added, though she didn't mention that she had her phone rigged so she could answer it. Or that she could pick up anything from the headset at the bat-computer.

"Geez, you've been plotting this for a while, haven't you? You've thought of everything."

Delilah just shrugged. "I'm hoping so." In the back of her mind she was running through several different contingency plans. It was just an equipment test, she wasn't looking to engage anyone or anything until she was sure everything worked up to par. What the fifteen year old didn't plan for was the fact the other side might just come at her first.

* * *

><p>Java junction was on the corner of the same street that housed the Gotham PD. It wasn't unusual to see a few uniforms come and go for coffee or a bite to eat as they walked their beats or took their breaks. The café wasn't empty by any stretch of the imagination, but the girls settled on a small table with Sam's laptop, watching the crowd on the street thin as the daylight began to flee.<p>

Delilah forced herself to eat a Danish and a down some water, trying to ignore the jitteriness of her nerves as the street lights came on. "Here we go." Del whispered to Sam, lifting her packpack from the ground as she slipped into the ladies room.

It was empty. Sliding into the largest stall, she made quick work of shedding off her clothes and working herself into the suit and her harness, she could feel the CO2 canisters weighing down by her hip, hidden from sight only by her cloak. The harness it's self was attached to a double cabled grappling hook. It would allow her to swing and maneuver, all the while powering her forward. It was going to take some balance to make if she used both at the same time.

Delilah quickly made an exit out of the window, after tucking her bag behind the toilet for Samantha to retrieve. The second her feet landed in the alley behind the café, She made a dash for the wall, squeezing the trigger of the grappling gun, it secured it's self into the wall, the fan made a faint whir as she rocketed up the wall. Ejecting the hook the girl hit the roof of the neighboring building, forcing her fall into a tumble to minimize damage.

"_So?" _

"It's a touchy system; I'm going to have to get my timing and balance just right."

"_Tanked on the first go didn't you?" _

"Let's just say, it's a good thing I don't have a fear of heights." She said, said charging across the roof top. She tried the grappler again, this time, aiming for a spot on the next building with her second cable as she released the first. At least this time she landed on her feet, albeit a bit hard.

"Landings are a little rough."

"You can control how much gas feeds through it right? Maybe you're just goosing it?"

Maybe she was on to something. Del leapt across the next building, feel her cape lift as if it were trying to help her float across. Had Lucius used some of the same material her father's cape was made of? Over the next few jumps, Delilah gave the grapplers no gas at all when she wanted to land, but let her gripped her cloak as it were a parachute. The landing came softer, even soundless.

"_I'm not hearing anything, something must be going right."_ Of course, Sam couldn't see Delilah grinning like a Cheshire cat. As the sound of gunshots rose over the cacophony of the city streets, the smile slipped. It reminded her just why she was out here in the first place. This wasn't play time.

"_Jeez, I can hear that from here." _

"Where are they?"

"_38__th__? Around the docks?"_

"I'm on 36th." As soon as the words came out of Del's mouth, she felt the gust of a low flying plane, making her to duck to the ground as the batwing zipped over her head. "Shit." She hissed, watching the black shape of a body drop from the plane just a few streets away. "Well, I know where Batman is."

Delilah quickly skirted the buildings and streets, trying to keep herself out of sight all the while trying to keep Batman in sight. The buildings lessened as the bay grew closer, giving way to shipping vessels and row upon row of warehouses. It was one such building that Delilah had perched herself on, watching Batman cling to a swerving vehicle. One second he was on the hood, the next, he was ripping bodies out of the cab through the windshield, jumping off just as the truck rolled. It was at time like this Delilah wished she could hear what he was saying.

With her hand resting on tin of the roof, the girl could feel the vibrations of something moving. Someone had landed just behind her. _Oh, fuck. _

"And just who are you?" The second Nighwing pulled himself from his crouch, Delilah was on her feet, flipping over the edge of the building. "Found Nightwing, or he found me." She said, as she landed hard on her feet. The second he came at her, she shot the grappling gun. It pierced a container just above Batman's head. He looked up from the man he was slamming against the wall. Just as she landed in his view, bullets began to spray everywhere. She looked down just in time to see the bullet splatter blood across his face. The man in his hands was dead, giving him no choice but to drop the body and take cover.

"_D! What's going on!?"_

"I don't know yet." She breathed, rolling to her side as the bullets stopped. She quickly sprang to her feet, fleeing quickly across the cargo containers, well aware that Batman and Nightwing were in pursuit.

"They think it was me!"

"_Get out of there!"_

"I'm trying!"

There's something to be said about the quiver of fear that rolled up Delilah's spine when Batman landed just a few feet away from her. _He's going to swing at me. My own father is going to swing at me._ When he did, she ducked, leaping up and kicking him back as she back flipped off of the container and on to the next row. There wasn't any time to worry over whether or not she would actually make it across.

As soon as her feet connected to something solid, she shot her grappling gun for the closest building, just as Nightwing slammed into her. "Oh no you don't!" _Oh yes I do._ She thought twisting as she pulled the trigger, freeing a leg from his hold she kicked him, trying not to recoil when her foot got him square in the face, just as she was ripped up the cable. _I'm so sorry Dick. _The last thing she wanted was to cause either of them harm.

As soon as she touched the concrete barricade of an empty parking garage, Delilah made a dash for it, leaping out the other side, launching a cable into a building across the street just as something wrapped around her leg. _Batman._ Her heart was beating just a little too quickly. Reaching up to her mouth, Delilah felt for the small switch around the mouth piece, relieved to feel the oxygen entering her mouth and nose. She quickly shot the second cable, forcing it to drag her closer to her mark with Batman in tow. The strain of his weight was almost unbearable. Knowing he had an anchor, she quickly fished a knife out of her harness, twisted and cut herself free. The second she set foot on the roof she was aiming for, she looked down, feeling her breath come out of her in a whoosh when she saw him dangling below on his anchor line. _Safe._

He was safe, but only for the space of a breath when something strikingly similar to a batarang cut through his cable. With Sam worriedly chatting in her ear, Delilah simply reacted and dove after him. She grabbed him by the glove, pulling one of her own grappling guns from her harness. She tried to thrust it at him before the wires went taut. If they went taut, she would be forced to hold his weight again. She wasn't sure if she, or her heart could pull it off. He managed to grab it, letting them both land safely on the ledge below.

Something told her to look up. The second she did, Delilah caught a red masked figure peering down at them. This had to be the Red Hood. She immediately went after him, leaving her father on the ledge, well aware that he couldn't use the grappling gun again now that it was no longer connected to the CO2 tank.

"Wait!"

But Batman's voice faded from her the second she ascended to the roof top where she had spotted him. The girl hit the ground running. _"D! Answer me!"_

"Busy!"

"_Are you okay?"_

As the man turned and shot at her, Del had no choice but to hit the dirt, behind a heavy pipe. One of the rounds ricocheted and made it into her shoulder.

"Not exactly." She managed, jumping over the pipe when he disappeared. She had just made it to the building's edge when he struck her out of nowhere. The force of the blow knocked her back, forcing her feet to skid in the gravel as she fought to stay upright. "A new face."

He was taller than she was for certain, and definitely outweighed her. Beneath the leather jacket he wore she could see something similar to her father's suit on his body. He wasn't just a regular street thug. She stepped back as he circled her, aware that he was treating her like prey to a predator. He lunged at her, forcing her to bend back when he swung. "You don't say much, do you?" She quickly grabbed his head, jumped up and kneed him. Putting her foot into his chest she launched off of him in a flip to put some space between them.

He automatically drew his gun. "Cute." When the bullets zipped by her, Delilah quickly tried to dodge them, digging out one of the throwing stars as she ducked for cover. She hit her mark the second they landed in his hands, driving him to drop the guns.

The girl dove for them, feeling his weight fall on her the second she got her fingers on them. Del twisted beneath him, highly aware how he reeked of polish and gunpowder. He was pushing her head over the edge of the roof top when she let the guns drop to the street below.

"You think you're funny don't you?" He asked, as Delilah struggled to make herself take slower breaths. _Don't panic. You know the way out of this, just don't panic. _He had a hand on her throat as he ripped away her cowl then her mask.

"Del."

Hearing her name come out of his mouth, Del was sure she stopped breathing entirely. He pulled his mask up with a hand, not daring to free her completely. Everything inside of her lurched. It was face she knew.

"Jason…" How was this possible? This couldn't be possible.

"You're all grown up now." He noted, squeezing down on her neck when he returned his hand back to her throat. "You decked Boy-Wonder in the face. Nice one. I've always wanted to do that."

_Think, Stupid, think. _ Locking his feet in with her own, she suddenly pulled his elbows into her body all the while popping up her hips at the same time; it was enough to throw his weight, enough to force him to the side. She popped up quick, jabbing him with a closed fist to the face as she jumped to her feet. "I'm not that little girl you knew…" She said, thrusting her heel on his nose before she quickly snapped up her mask and put it back in place.

She didn't wait for him to stir or recover, she leapt off the building, and using the grappling gun she made it to the ground, and made sure to stay there. "I'm on my way back."

"_Who was the male voice I heard?"_

"I'll have to explain later, things are seriously complicated right now."

Delilah walked slowly, becoming more aware of the bullet that was lodged in her shoulder as she skimmed the shadows of the next few blocks, trying to avoid traffic from cars and people alike. It gave her a new respect on just what it was her father really did. It was simply exhausting just to process it all.

The girl had just turned the corner, just as her arm was nailed by throwing stars. Someone hit her from behind, forcing her to slam into the wall. Peering up she could make out the shape of a very short hooded ninja. _Damian._ How long had he been following Batman and Nightwing?

"This night just keeps getting better." Del grumbled, biting back a groan as she ripped the stars out of her arm and threw them back at him. It was just like the little shit to dodge them and come right for her, brandishing a brand-new blade. She however didn't waste any time, she simply grabbed her Taser, dropping the boy like a stone when it latched onto his sword. _I told you, I don't have time for this. _She left him gift wrapped for her father to find.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for getting bullet out."<p>

Sam nearly choked on her coffee. "Was not the highlight of my night. How's the shoulder?"

"Hurts."

The crowd in the café suddenly rose to their feet, sending several patrons flying to the window. "Don't look now, but I think the caped crusaders followed you." Delilah stood up, trying to ignore her stiffness as she wandered closer to the window. _Or someone is checking up on me._ The second her eyes met with Batman's, he was up a building and into the darkness.

"Hey, your phone is going off."

Delilah wandered back to their table as some of the crowd spilled out into the street or lost interest completely. "Dad's texting me."

_Alfred is on his way. I want you home. NOW. No stops._

"He texts? That's scary."

"You have no idea."


	10. Dictators and Stalkers

**A/N:** Another early one. And yes, I went and adjusted the typos from the last one. Thanks for pointing them out. Sorry about that. When you stare at a particular piece long enough you sometimes miss some things. And yes! Bruce is extremely suspicious! As far as the Batmobile goes...I suppose pateince is a virtue?

* * *

><p>It was never my intention to trap Sam in this crazy web that consumed out lives. And as selfish as it sounds, and I know it does, I'm glad that I had someone on my side. You can't uphold this life on your own. I think it's one of the hardest lessons any of us had to learn.<p>

* * *

><p>The second Delilah stepped foot into the foyer, her bag was ripped from her. "<em>Dad!<em>" She groaned watching him rifle through it right there on the spot. Of course, he'd find nothing but textbooks, notebooks and pens. She snatched it back when he seemed to find nothing in it of consequence. If he looked in the notebooks, he'd definitely know something was wrong. After all, they had Sam's name written in them, not hers.

"If you wanted to see what was in my bag, all you had to do was ask."

He seemed to relax at her words, closing his eyes as he shook his head. "I'm the parent; I don't need to ask for anything in this house." Cripes, he was moody. Trying to be careful with her shoulder, the girl slung the strap over her back. "Bad night?" He answered her with a slamming door as he made his way back down into the bat cave. "I hear ya." With that she made her way up to her room, slinging the bag on the bed. Del made quick work of the sweater, overly aware how her undershirt was sticking around her shoulder. Sure enough, the wound was bleeding again. She didn't even bother with a light as she routed around in her dresser for a clean, looser fitting shirt. Glancing in the mirror she caught someone's form standing behind her door. She immediately filled the room with lamp light.

"Damn it, Damian!" She yelled, marching across the room she threw the door open, "Out!" However, her little brother only kicked the door closed and wrenched her hand off the knob. Giving her arm a twist, it shed light on the angry red cuts that trailed up her arm. "That's what I thought."

Yanking her arm back, she turned back to the dresser. "Keep your mouth shut."

"How did you get the bullet?"

"The Red Hood." She snipped, watching the boy's face in the mirror. "He let you get that close? " He asked, turning his back so she could change shirts. What he didn't expect was for her to kick him against the door. Grabbing his arm, she twisted it into an arm bar, mashing his face into the frame.

"Did you know?!" Did you know this entire time?!"

"What? About you? It was a suspicion." He spat out against the door.

"No! About Jason! You lie to me, Damian, God, help you. Only the Lazarus pits have the ability to bring people back."

His green eyes were wide. "The experiment?" At those words, he was released, leaving his sister to pace back and forth across the floor. He only gave his neck and shoulders a pop. "My mother tried to bring him back to life. He was an emotionless vegetable that attacked on the slightest provocation. A failure."

"Oh, my God. Why?!"

Compared to Delilah's frantic arm movements and determined pacing, the boy was utterly still. "She thought it would win father's approval, if it turned out like she hoped."

"This is exactly why Dad didn't use the pits!" When she ripped the door open, Damian followed her.

"And just what exactly are you going to do?"

"Warn my father, he needs to know!"

"You do that, you're going to blow your own cover."

* * *

><p>As Delilah popped down the steps two at a time, a part of her just wanted to yell out. <em>It's Jason. The Red Hood is Jason. <em>The words bubbled and lingered right there on her lips, but nothing would come out. She stood motionless, watching her father rewind and replay the moment that she jumped after him.

"Whoever they are, they didn't want to see you end up a stain on the street." Dick turned, realizing she was just standing there by the stairs staring. "Who..."

"We don't know."

_Play it off. Just keep calm and play it off. You can do this. It's not like you're going to hide it from them forever, just for now. _ "Holy crap! Dick, what happened to your face?"

Dick lightly touched his crooked nose.

"He got kicked in the face." Damian chimed in for him, slipping the man a grin as he moved around his motionless sister.

"Says the one who was knocked out cold and left hogtied on the sidewalk."

"An oversight." He sniffed, hopping up onto the platform where the costumes hung. He seemed to linger around Jason's suit. "You probably deserved it." Delilah shot out, biting back the urge to grin at him. She gravitated toward the grappling gun on the table. Her grappling gun. This brought a slew of new problems. Her system for moving around the city wouldn't be the same, and it wasn't like she could just steal it back. That would raise some red flags.

"What I don't get is, why shoot at us, and then try to run away?"

Her father had his hands folded as he pressed his elbows on the computer, just watching the clip over and over. It was if he was looking for something in that moment to explain things.

"They had a knife that was able to cut my lines. But I don't think they'd shoot at us, cut free, and then cut my line only to save me from falling."

"Two different people with ability to cut your lines? Not many weapons can do that." She said, easing herself onto a stool next to her father. _I'm lying. I'm lying to you, and I'm sorry._ When he glanced at her, she popped her eyes to the screen, praying she didn't look guilty as hell.

"No, not many."

Out of the corner of her eye, Del could see Dick moving toward the table. "You have to admit, it would take some serious skill to use a pair of cables, like you say. Are you sure they were using two at the same time? I mean I know you always set anchors but-"

"Yes. They cut one of their own cables from their harness and gave it to me."

"That would take some balance."

"Oh, a lackey like you could probably pull it off, Grayson." Damian sneered. Annoying Dick was turning out to be one of his favorite pastimes.

"Shut it, Damian."

Dick was turning the grappler over in his hand. "A trigger and a throttle?" He lifted the tube that was dangling from its end. "I wonder what they used to power it…"

"C02. I've been running checks on any large purchases for C02, but I haven't found any." _Because Wayne Enterprises bought them years ago, Dad. You'd have to look at your own company. _

It was then, her father turned his chair. Without warning, his fingers hooked around the collar of her shirt, pulling it down to reveal the long snaking cut around her neck. "Care to explain that? Or why Jax has cuts?" Hearing his name, Jax roused from the other side of her father's chair.

"A fight with a short, arrogant opponent."

"I would have won if your stupid dog hadn't attacked me." Damian fired back.

"He attacked you because you cheated."

Delilah tried not jump as her father's chair swung back, crashing to the ground when it tipped over. Jax never made a fuss when he or Dick sparred with the girl. It only meant one thing; the animal thought she was in danger. "You drew a blade on her?!" Del cringed when his voice echoed through the batcave, stirring the bats in a chattering frenzy.

Damian simply lifted his chin. "It would have been a fair fight if you had taught her how to use the sword. Grandfather always said to finish off your opponent."

"She's not some opponent. She's my daughter!"

"And I'm your son! If you would let me go with you, none of this would happen!" He cried, jumping over the banister of the platform.

"Don't _even_ spin it that way." Delilah may not have yelled but her words were heard. She knew by the way her father paused that he caught them. "I instigated the fight, and you obliged. You screwed up the match when you picked up the sword."

She may be a typical teenager, the kind who didn't want to get into trouble and would try to weasel her way out of it. But in the end, there were times you just had to take responsibility for your actions. Batman was looking right at her. "Jax broke through the kitchen window and attacked Damian, when he had me in a compromised position."

"Go to your room, and wait for me."

Delilah quickly ducked for stairs, cutting by the boy. "Nice try, but I'm not going to let you guilt your way into being Robin."

"Now Delilah Bae!"

Delilah didn't say another word, with Jax now just a few steps behind her, she disappeared into the house.

* * *

><p>When Bruce, eased his way into her bedroom, the minutes had slipped into hours. It was an ungodly hour, but he knew she'd still be awake. The girl was sitting cross legged on the bed, a stack of envelopes, spilled out in front of her, with Jax all but sprawled out against her.<p>

Her eyes looked up from the envelope in her hands and landed on him. "I know you're mad." She said letting the piece of paper fall into her lap, as he grabbed her computer chair and stat himself down across from her. "What were you thinking?! He could kill you." The words were simple and to his own horror, the truth. His son had no scope of what was right or wrong.

"I just- I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't."

"Ouch."

He was leaning with his elbows on his legs, his chin resting on his folded hands. "Truth, hurts Del."

"Siblings are supposed to argue and fight."

He took the envelope from her, forcing her to pay attention to him. "Normal siblings, but not ones that were raised by assassins."

"Touché." Delilah said with a shrug, wincing when she realized just how badly that hurt. "He almost handed my ass to me. Again."

"More like your head."

"Hey, I did make him eat dirt a couple times. I _can_ hold my own." She said, snatching the envelope back from him.

"You almost didn't-" The word hung there for a moment. "That shoulder is really bugging you, isn't it?" _He can read your body language._ "It's sore. I smacked it pretty good when me and Damian were tussling around, and then practice with Dick didn't help. I just pulled a muscle." _If he looks at my shoulder, I'm so done._

"You stopped by the café. Want to tell me what that was about?"

He stole the letter back from her. "What's this?" Delilah could have rolled her eyes. Now he was evading her questions. She watched the lines in his face relax when he turned it over, showing the scrawling P written on the cover.

"I'm surprised you don't recognize your own handwriting." She said softly. He opened it, peering over the envelope at her. "Where did you get these?"

"They were in the safe…"

Without so much as a word, her father stood and scooped up the envelopes. He didn't offer her an explanation as he moved from her wing to his office with her in tow. She knew better than to ask. Wiggling her toes into the plush carpet of the office, she ambled over to the mantle, staring up at her grandparent's faces while he rummaged through the cabinets behind his desk. Only when he pulled a stack of envelopes from the depths did she wander her way back to him.

"You're kidding me."

"No I'm not."

Delilah eased herself into a chair by the desk, watching him put the letters in order. All he seemed to do was peek inside and read a line or two. It was as if he knew them by heart. He went to shove them toward her, but stopped. "Wait a second." He quickly pulled a couple out, and put them and the piece of cloth back into the cabinet. If Delilah didn't know any better, she'd say her father might have been blushing. "I'm sure you could do without reading those."

He held them out to her, but just as she reached out to accept them he yanked them back. "I catch you and Damian squaring off like that again; I will confiscate these so fast your head _will_ spin." Grounding would never work on the likes of her. But holding something back about her mother, now that was another story.

"Yes, sir."

He let her have them. Watching her eyes scan the sticky notes that all but covered the first envelope. "Seriously? You guys have a post-it note war?"

Her father's lips shaped into a very small, very subtle smile. She could tell by the way it caused his eyes to crinkle just ever so slightly. "That's how this whole mess started." He said, gesturing to the tower of letters. "That and three large coffees down the front of my shirt." With that he purposely squeezed her on the shoulder. "Now go to bed before Alfred starts slipping you drugs too."

Delilah slipped out of the chair, plopping a kiss on his scruffy cheek, she scrambled for the door before he could change his mind. "Bed. No letters tonight."

"Night, Dad." She barley heard him answer her back as she dodged Alfred in the hall. She pressed her lips to the envelopes. "Thanks, Mom. You helped me dodge a bullet." Well…sort of.

* * *

><p>Somewhere in the hour of four in the morning, Delilah thought she heard the squeak of her door. A part of her wanted to roll over and ignore it. That was of course, until someone started to bounce on her bed.<p>

"Yo. Up. Now."

Dick. The girl groaned into her pillow, lifting her head to glare at the alarm clock. "Dick, it's 4:30. Go away." Five hours sleep was not enough. There was brief moment when her brain entertained the thought that he just might get up and leave her alone. That dissipated the second he had Jax sticking his cold nose in her ear and licking her face.

"Traitor."

"Your father wants you up. Do you really want him coming in here instead?"

The girl flung the blankets back at that. "Oh, fuck no!" With that Dick and Jax both vacated the room. "Ten minutes!" He called. Ten minutes? Ten minutes till what? Delilah flopped back on her bed. Oh, Jesus, her punishment hadn't even begun.

"Why do girls take so long?" Damian wanted to know.

"To drive us crazy."

"Hey, you said ten; it's been six and a half." Delilah quipped, as she came down the stairs. She wasn't sure what to think when she saw her father in shorts and a sweatshirt. Jax was sitting by his leg, holding his own leash. "I thought there was this thing in the constitution against cruel and unusual punishment? You know… eighth amendment?"

She felt something crawl up her spine when her father's lips twitched. "That's the constitution. It's a dictatorship in this house." Oh, son of a bitch. Alfred quickly offered the girl her medication, and a bottle of water. "Why are they so full of piss and vinegar this morning?" She asked, trying to swallow as many pills down as she could.

"B12, Miss."

"Oh, fantastic. If they come back without me, please send a search and rescue team."

Alfred seemed to simper at that. "On speed dial."

* * *

><p>Delilah tried to think nothing of it when she took the end of the leash. She and Jax ran every morning, rain or shine. Dick joined in if he was there early enough…but her father? She eyed the back of his sweat shirt, watching the hood bounce with the sway of his movements. She peered over her shoulder at Damian. "What the hell?" She mouthed. But the boy literally just shrugged at her. "Did you tell?" He shook his head.<p>

When she felt Dick take the leash, she stared at him. "Go. I don't think Jax can keep up at that pace for that long." Delilah looked at the gap her father had created. He was right; it would be cruel to keep Jax at his pace. "Care to tell me what's up?" she breathed, trying to ignore the bite of the October air. But even Dick just shrugged. "Liar." She accused, putting in her ear buds, before slowly and surely bringing herself to her father's side. When Damian tried to catch up with them, Dick held out his arm. "Wait. Let them go. You have no idea how long this has been coming."

_He knows. He knows, he just can't prove it. _

The thought made all warmth leave her face. "Shouldn't you be back there with Jax?" He asked, his voice barely breaking over the sound of his shoes on the pavement. "No." Delilah said, watching one manicured yard pass, then another. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be." With that she started to pull away from him. What Bruce couldn't see was Dick grinning like a Cheshire cat when Wayne shook his head at her. He could push Delilah all he wanted, but what Dick knew, was that no one pushed the girl harder than herself. "There's no way, you can keep that pace Del."

"Don't bet me on it! Remember you're the one with money. I have nothing to lose."

Was he laughing? Seriously laughing? Dick was the one shaking his head now, watching Bruce as he caught up to the girl. He knew that she would slow for a few minutes but then she'd be right back at that stride. She was trying to make sure she didn't burn herself out.

"Competitive aren't they?"

"Are you just now noticing that?" Damian sniffed, keeping his pace behind Grayson. "What's her point? What could she possibly gain?"

"That she doesn't need him to fight her battles for her. She has his love, make no mistake; it's his respect she wants."

Damian shot him a miffed look. "You got all that…from this?"

"Dude, this has been going on for years. There's a lot more to your father and sister than you know."

Several miles in, Dick eyes caught Bruce's hand circling in the air, he was telling them to start heading back. "What about them?" Damian asked, as Grayson forced him to turn around. "Let's just hope they come back in one piece instead of pieces."

The silence between them was maddening. It didn't matter that there was music humming in her ears, or that there were crickets hopping in front of them like the suicidal insects that they were. _It's your own conscience. _She chided to herself.

"I didn't expect you to last this long."

"I'm tougher than I look." She breathed, turning her head to see the pink ribbons of sunlight cut across the sky. He looked that direction but only for a moment, before he slowed and stopped completely. Delilah slowed herself and paused, watching him turn toward the ocean.

" I know." He said, giving Del nothing but the side of his face. _C'mon, Dad. Just ask me. Just ask me, I'll tell you everything!_ What came from his mouth wasn't what she expected. "I wish you didn't have to be."

Delilah could feel the winter wind working through her sweat soaked hoodie. Now that she wasn't moving, her body was losing its warmth. Dick was right, not that she'd ever admit that one aloud. "Dad.." Delilah felt herself shiver in the space of the silence. The words were right there, but they didn't come out. God, he knew. Why didn't he just come out and say it? Why couldn't she?!

"I don't do it just because I want to, or I just want to get on your nerves, or prove a point. I feel like I have to." At that moment she knew she wasn't just talking about pushing herself to the brink. If anyone knew what it was like to be driven into doing what felt right or just, it had to be him.

But he only nodded. "Alright, Kid." Delilah wasn't sure what that meant. The long silence back did nothing to quiet the over whelming uncertainties. Coming back into the house, the warmth made her flesh tingle, it was the kind of feeling that relived a person and brought them pain all at once. The girl flopped on the stairs, afraid that her body would melt right there for sure. Her father simply stepped over her.

"Gi. I want you in the gym in five."

"What?!"

"Dictator says. Now move it."

"Evil Dictator, more like."

"Clock's ticking!"

"Fuck sticks." She hissed as she laid there staring up at the ceiling. Just what was his deal today?

"I heard that."

"No you didn't." She yelled, peeling herself off the stairs. Well, at least her muscles were nice and lose. All the better for him to beat in.

* * *

><p>As Delilah and her father circled around each other, it started to make sense just what he was up to. Every move he had made was the same as last night. He was testing her limits, or trying to push her into a confession so he didn't have to ask. <em>Watch that foot. He gets you to the floor, you're in trouble. <em>

The room echoed with the sound of his foot connecting with her glove when she moved to block her face. _C'mon Old Man, kick high._ When he did, the girl dropped down, kicking out her father's foot, he didn't miss a beat when he hit the mat and it turn swept at her. Delilah jumped into a back handspring missing it just in the nick of time. She had landed in a crouch, just as he jumped to his feet.

"Oh. So is this how it's going to go? You're as jumpy as he is." He said giving a slight nod to Dick as he leaned against the wall. He seemed to be enjoying this just a little too much.

Delilah couldn't help it. She grinned at him. "Then you should know how to put me down. How come you haven't done it yet?" She breathed, focusing on blocking his kicks with her feet.

"Okay, Smartass, have it your way." He blitzed her. She was so focused on meeting his fists with her gloves, that when he kneed her it knocked her down a peg. When she hit the mat with a thud, she tucked and rolled back, trying to duck when her father's leg flew over her head. Unlike all of the times before, he wasn't relenting, he wasn't going to stop and let her breathe. She caught the foot with her gloves, jumped and kicked his leg out. When he went down, he managed to grab her arm as he kicked her legs out from under her. Delilah landed right on her ass. He was up before she could even think to roll. He grabbed her by the collar, holding a fist back from her face. Then he just dropped her.

For a second the room was filled with the chorus of ragged breaths. But he reached down, grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. "Do you know what you did wrong?" He asked, turning to accept the water that Alfred had brought them. Delilah put her hands on her knees, bent over and took a breath. "Yeah." She said straightening herself, catching the bottle when her father tossed it to her. "I picked a fight with Batman." There was a brief moment where she thought her father was smirking. "No. You got cocky."

"And then I got knocked on my ass."

"That's normally what happens."

Bruce eyed Damian who was sitting patiently on the floor. He didn't even look amused. "Give me ten minutes."

"Yes, Father."

Delilah looked from the boy to her father. "You _are_ full of piss and vinegar today. Alfred, don't give him anymore B12. He's starting to freak me out." She said flicking her father right on the nose. Something he used to do to her when she was knee high to a June bug. Not that she was much taller now. He popped that water bottle out of her hand and suddenly struck. His fist hit her bare hand, just as the water bottle came spilling down on her. She had no choice but to slide back. She turned, forcing Dick to jump out of the way when she ran and the wall and flipped over her own father. The second she hit the floor, she got him with and elbow to the head.

He swung right around with that fist forcing her to duck, but just as she did, his other fist got her square in the gut. Delilah doubled over, but forced herself to drop. She kicked his legs out from under him and then side rolled so she wouldn't get his body when he landed on his rump with his back to the wall.

Del worked herself to her feet as Bruce tilted his head against the wall. "Good girl." He managed when she grabbed his hand and helped him up. "You always taught me to expect the unexpected. How's the cheek?"

Her father rubbed his cheek where her elbow had landed. "Fine. How's the gut?"

"Well, I'm not curled up in the fetal position so that must account for something." With that her father simply patted her on the back, making sure to slap that shoulder for good measure. Leave it to him to get the last word in…so to speak.

"You're not sticking around to see Damian get the crap beat out of him?" Dick yelled to her when she popped over a pressing bench and hopped to the door. "No. School in an hour. Record it for me!"

That had Wayne at the door. "Excuse me?"

"School, Dad."

"No."

Delilah groaned. "_Dad_. I've missed the entire week almost. I need to at least go make up the test I missed and pick up my homework." When he just stared at her, she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "After what happened you really think the school is going to let me go anywhere without a security guard?"

"I want you here by lunch."

"Yes, Sir."

Dick looked a little miffed. "You're actually going to let her go alone?" He asked watching the girl haul ass down the hallway.

"No, you're going to go get her."

* * *

><p>Delilah made her way into the cramped hall, dodging and edging around the bodies in pleated skirts and slacks. "That's not regulation." Delilah looked down at her black boots and jeans, then back up at the leggy blonde. "Well, I'm glad to see you know the difference." Delilah said, glancing at the girls who giggled behind their hands. "You don't, apparently." Oh, this was normal. To Del's misfortune, even in a school of socialites, her name was one of the biggest on campus. And what Delilah had learned was, the bigger the name, the bigger the target, especially if you didn't play to the same song and dance as everyone else.<p>

"No, I just don't care. There's a difference."

"You think you can do whatever you want just because you're a Wayne."

Delilah pursed her lips. "Sweetie, I don't _think_ I can do whatever I want. I _know_ I can."

Without another word, Delilah spun around and continued down the hall, ignoring the sudden shrieks of gossip. If her Dad ever heard her talk that way…he'd kill her. She found Sam waiting against the wall.

"Boy, Carlotta's squealing to her friends right now, I can hear it from here. ' Did you hear how that bitch talked to me?' "Del felt her lips curl as Sam imitated the girl.

"She'd shit bricks if she knew the boots came from Macy's." Delilah grumbled, dropping a bag by Sam's feet.

"Delilah Wayne shops with the lower crust!" Sam exclaimed, expanding her hands in the air as if it were a headline. "I could see the article now." Sam let the bag in her hand drop to the floor right next to its matching cousin, completing the bag swap with none the wiser. She then reached down and grabbed the paper that was sitting on top of her books. "Did you see this?" She asked, thrusting the paper at Del.

Someone had managed to take a shot of Batman in mid fall. **Batman saved by unknown vigilante! **

"You didn't tell me you saved Batman's ass!" Sam whispered excitedly. Delilah only looked at her, but then her eyes fell back to the picture. "I-I had to, I couldn't just let him..."

Delilah felt someone take up the wall beside her, but she didn't look up. "Crazy, isn't it?" The girl peered up at Timothy Drake, He had his foot against the wall and his eyes down at the paper in her hands. "Y-yeah...crazy."

Sam peered around the girl. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Sam this is Timothy Drake, Drake, Samantha Cleary." Delilah said quickly, pulling herself away from the wall.

As soon as the bell rang, Del wandered to her class, the paper still in her hands. She didn't even look back at the two. Tim looked at her, and then looked at Sam. "Was it something I said?" He asked, watching her slip into the classroom.

"I guess you haven't known her for very long. She doesn't look at Batman like he's crazy. He saved her life once. She takes him seriously."

* * *

><p>It wasn't Tim that caught her off guard. It was the photo. Now the adrenaline had long since faded, it was clear just how close she came to letting him fall, letting her father fall. Even with the article stuffed into her bag, she couldn't dismiss the nagging thought. It didn't make her trig exam any easier.<p>

"_Students, remember that the pole challenge is set up in the north field. Please exercise all caution, and good luck. Remember the first male and female students to make to complete the challenge will be exempt from their mid-term!" _

"Hey! Are you going to try the pole challenge?" Sam asked the second the class burst open. Delilah was trying to ignore the security guard that was trailing her from a few bodies away. The school had posted one in the last two classes she'd been in. "What is it?"

"Woman! This is so up your alley how could you not know?! Every year they erect a pole on the track field. They give you nothing but weights and straps to climb to the top. A lot of people just tank."

Delilah clenched her teeth, choking on a groan when someone pressed on her shoulder, jumping in front of them. "Oh come on, Wayne." She could have cursed Tim as he turned away and began to make a bee line through the crowd. "You know what? He's not that bad to look at." Sam said, as the girls watched him dart out the front door.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sam snorted. "Liar."

* * *

><p>Delilah craned her neck, to look at the top of the pole that stood wearily in the middle of the field. It seemed roughly the size of a telephone pole. Of course, telephone poles didn't have nets waiting to catch you if you fell.<p>

"Everyone listen up!" Her eyes snapped to the potbelly toting coach. "If you are participating, select your weights from the table. Pick up some straps from the bin beneath it! Choose them wisely. Then stand in line and wait to be harnessed. Yes, there are nets, but we would like to get everyone safely to the ground. Don't be horsing around."

Delilah had her hands on her hips watching the jocks laugh and joke. One by one they'd pick the smallest weights they could, hoping to keep from being weighed down as they tried to climb, but one by one they'd slip and fall and end up riding the zip line right back down to earth.

Tim, was still looking the weights over when Delilah finally approached the table. They all ranged in size. But all were flat and rounded out in the shape of discs. "Going for the big guns, huh?" Tim asked, watching her test out the larger weights "They're not just a part of the obstacle…" She said, as she picked her set. "They're tools."

She passed the kids as the huddled, shivering and jumping around in their gym clothes. "Wayne? Are you sure?" The coach asked her, as she stepped into the harness, letting the staff adjust it to her body. The school was well aware of her condition. "Yes. I'm not lifting anything heavier than my own body weight." It was the only cardinal rule she followed.

She could hear her classmates whispering and giggling as she approached the pole, weaving her way around the nets to reach the base. "Okay Wayne, we've laughed enough." Pike Jested. But Delilah wasn't paying him any attention. She wrapped her arms around the pole, feeling the weights wrap around each other she pulled, testing to see if they would hold. When they did, she put one foot on the beam, then another, sliding the weights up a little at a time. "Look at that, she's already higher of the ground than you were!" They were laughing. _Focus. Just keep going._ Her shoulders were on fire. It was enough to make the tears of reach wet her lashes, but the girl marched on, forcing the weights up and scaling a few steps at a time. The chattering below her had faded, leaving the wind to bite and numb her ears. For a split second she thought she heard the whirling sound of metal slicing through the air, when the harness ripped, and the objects stuck into the wood, Delilah had her answer. Her foot slipped, leaving her to hang there as the harness began to shift down.

"Hold on, Wayne, we'll get you down. Stay right there." Del peeked over the side, realizing she was more than half way up, the ground was further than she thought. Forcing her fingers to reach for the metal pieces, she yanked them from the beam. Glancing in her hands, she knew exactly who these belonged to. Jason. She pulled her hip up, to work them into the pocket of her gym shorts.

"Okay, Jase." She spat, wiggling, so the harness would just fall off completely. Looking over the field there was nothing there but an empty set of bleachers. He had to be there somewhere, he was watching. She heard the harness hit the ground.

"Stay still!" The coach yelled.

"Oh, bullshit! Get your ass up there! Don't you quit now! "

Delilah was grinning, realizing the entire crowd was now in riot of whistling and yelling. Leave it to Sam to get everyone going with her sailor mouth. Had she not been looking down she might have missed the shape of Dick's body standing on the skirts of the fray. Taking a deep breath, the girl pulled her feet back into position and slowly worked her way up. Everything ached. But she reached the bell that sat near the top, she grabbed that chord and slammed it, letting it echo across the field. The small crowd of students erupted. But the girl didn't let go. She pulled herself over the bell and to the top, working herself to sit on the flat surface. She ripped the straps off, tossing the weights, letting them clank together as they landed in the net below her. The teen worked herself to her feet, scanning the bleachers across the field for movement. Someone, someone was sitting there on the top row.

She did what any gymnast would do. She presented gracefully and then let herself free fall backwards into the net behind her.

"Jesus Christ!"

"I got the whole fucking thing on video!"

"Dude, that was awesome!"

Delilah worked herself out of the net. The metal in her pocket clinked together." Who got it on video?" She asked Looking eyes with a blonde haired boy when he held out his phone and shook it. "I was going to send out into the Twitter-verse." He told her. "One, I'd like a copy. Two. Can you throw a 'Wayne' tag in it?" The kid looked a little surprised but he grinned at her. "Done and done. Check your student e-mail."

Sam hugged her. "Oh, you crazy ass! You know you know the PR department at Wayne Enterprises is going to pick up on that right? Your Dad's going to see it."

"That's exactly what I want."

Delilah watched curiously as Dick approached her. He had that wiry look on his face. "I give it a 9.8"

"Oh, please," Sam chimed. "That was a 10."

"Dick, _this_ is Sam." She said pulling the girl in front of her. "He's Dick."

"And _why_ is she saying it like that?" Sam asked as she shook Dick's hand.

"You don't want to know. But it's good to finally meet you." He said jamming his hands in his pockets. "Hey, you ready? You have practice remember?"

"You have practice today? Oh you're evil." Delilah's lips twitched. Sam had wanted to see one of her practices for ages now. "Well, if you come with, you can see my practice and we can work on your independent study." She looked up at Dick. "If you don't mind… I mean."

"Fine by me." He said with a shrug. There was a reason for this, he could feel it.

"Let me call my Dad and see what he says." Of course she'd call her father instead. Her Dad was a little too obliging to bend to Delilah's will. The second she'd mention that she'd be going to Wayne Manor for the first time ever, her father would be sold. It was her mother that they were avoiding.

Delilah watched the girl run across the field for her things.

"What's wrong?"

Del pulled out the weapons that were in her pocket and handed them over. "This is what cut the harness. There was a glimmer of hope that maybe, maybe she'd be wrong. But the look on his face said otherwise. "You recognize them, don't you?"

"Yeah…they belong to the Red Hood." He said sliding them into his pocket. He was looking at her as if he had something important to say, but her mouth opened first.

"What's really going on, Dick? What's Dad's deal?"

He seemed to be looking beyond her, forcing Del to take a peek as Tim Drake slowly inched his way up the pole. "I told your Dad about our arrangement."

"Dick!"

"He was happy to reject it, trust me it took some persuasion." He crossed his arms. "But now, I have something to ask you." There was one moment when the girl would have been happy or at least relived to spill her guts. Now was not one of those moments.

"The mute last night. That was you, wasn't it?" When her eyes went wide he sighed. "I know your moves, Del. Some of them came from me." Delilah was looking at her shoes, but then she looked right back up. "Does Dad…"

"He's suspicious, and has nothing to physically prove it. I don't think he wants to believe it's you." He touched his pocket. "You knew what these were, and where they came from, didn't you? This is a problem. It means he somehow knows who you are and he's stalking you."

"I had my suspicions, something like that cut Dad's cable last night. You just confirmed it for me. Dick-" But he held his hand up to stop her. Sam was running back in their direction. "Later. We'll talk about it later." _I know who he is too_…but the words just would not come out. _And so do you._

.


	11. Sam

**A/N:** Here we go again. Thank you for the reviews you guys. And no, I don't mind at all if you spot something that needs to be fixed. It's actually quite a help to me. I had someone message me, asking me where the romance was...it's coming I promise, though some of it will be coming from some unexpected places. All good things come to those who wait.

* * *

><p>"I don't know about this, Alfred." I pressed my hands into the plaid fabric of my skirt, as if it would instantly dry my sweaty hands. The girl I spotted in the review mirror was flushed. Small wisps of hair had started to fall from the delicately braided updo, but maybe her eyes were what gave her away. They were wide and wild, a shade of blue that world seemed to recognize. Everyone was able to see bits and pieces of my father in me now; I just wished I could have acted like him in that moment.<p>

The car stopped moving, but Alfred didn't budge. Not at first. He simply turned to me. "You've been begging your father for how bloody long now? Don't tell me you're afraid. Where is Delilah Wayne, and what have you done with her?"

The words made my lips twist, but only for a second. He was right. My life had been all but confined to the manor. And when I did venture out into the world, my father was not more than an arm's length away from me. School for me, was private teachers and tutors. They came and went quickly. I can't say I was a very good student, I wasn't. I was a holy terror, unleashing my pent-up curiosity on them.

Even when the world learned of the little girl that lived at Wayne Manor, Dad still kept me, guarding me from the new threats my existence brought. He had threatened to send me to boarding school once, but quickly dismissed the idea. No school was really prepared to deal with the kind of attention the Wayne name drew, and he didn't want me out of his reach. I knew what that meant. Delilah Wayne, AKA, 'Ransom Fodder'. It's isn't like that never happened. It just hadn't happened to me…yet.

I looked up at the towering arches of Gotham Prep, watching the kids in matching uniforms as they scattered across the green. I begged and pleaded, and when that didn't work I begged and pleaded some more. You can only stand to hide from the world for so long. I had my volunteer work, the long days at the office with Dad. (Or Lucius, when Dad slept those days off in the penthouse.) Thanks to Dick, I had the gymnastics, but I only seemed to leave the house for the rare team meeting or a competition. I just wanted something normal.

"You stuck it out for quite some time." So long that he actually caved, or got so fed up with me he'd let me have just what I asked for. Only problem was, I never thought it would have been that hard. I bet he did.

"You finally got what you wanted, and now look at you. Shall I take you home then, Miss?"

"No!" I bit my lip when the word left me louder than I anticipated. "No, no thank you." I said more quietly. I listened to Alfred's shoes on the pavement as he walked to my door. The second he stepped out, people had turned, teachers and students alike, both staring toward the car.

As soon as I was out of the car, I could feel the morning sun on my back. Alfred reached up and adjusted my tie. "There's that Wayne stubbornness that I know." He said quietly. "Chin up, now. You'll do just fine."

"Thank you, Alfred." I whispered, unsure if he even heard me.

"Try not to send too many of them running for the hills."

Now I was giving him a full smile. "I can't make any promises."

"There she is."

* * *

><p>I learned quickly that as nervous as I was, they seemed more nervous to meet <em>me<em>. The halls would quiet into whispers. The crowds would break up to let me through. Well most of them. A girl came backing out of class with a stack of books nearly piled to her nose. I couldn't apply the brakes fast enough and she never saw me. We both hit the ground as books went toppling down and paper went scattering across the hall. In the second it took for the school to hold their breath, there was panic.

"Oh, my! Miss Wayne, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." I said quickly trying to brush off the crowd before they closed in too tightly. I rubbed my palms on my skirt as I looked down at the other fallen girl, the girl no one seemed to really fuss over. "Are _you_ okay? I asked, quickly picking up her glasses and handing them to her. The second my face came into focus, she looked horror stricken. "I'm- I'm okay." She said quickly, hustling to grab her books. I started picking up the loose pieces of paper.

"Oh, Wayne, don't worry about the little pauper she'll be okay."

Pauper? I peered over at the long haired blonde who had bent down to tap me on the shoulder. "You have first period Latin don't you?"

I nodded, tapping the papers in my hand to even them out. I handed them to the girl in the glasses. She thanked me, turned tail and disappeared down the corridor. "That's great, so do I." I followed Carlotta Van Helton and her trio all the way through lunch. The more they spoke, the more out of place I felt.

"You know that bitch spilled her coffee on my Louis Vuitton's?" I guess I didn't look horrified enough. "I can only imagine the kind of things you have in your closet Delilah." All eyes at the table were on me. I poked at my chicken with my fork. It wasn't at all like Alfred's. Designers sent me things constantly, all in hopes I would be caught wearing their name. But trend setter I was not. You kinda have to be seen to be one of those. "I end up donating most of my stuff." I said, giving up on the food all together.

They squealed and giggled over their fantasies about what my father's money could buy and frowned at me when they learned that I hardly spent my allowance. I didn't hang out at all the posh places and clubs, and seemed to pity me when I explained that I had never really gotten the chance. I was happy to talk about my dog, my music, the gymnastics and the volunteer work. They lost interest, interest in me anyway.

"I hear your Dad was dating the Prima Ballerina from the Gotham Dance company."

"Why couldn't I be older?! Sorry, Delilah, but you're Dad's hot."

I wanted to crawl under the table and slither out the door, but I caught the girl in the glasses walking to an empty table.

"Who is she?" I asked. The simple question forced them all to stare. Carlotta waved her hand at me. "Oh, Sweetie, don't even worry about it. She's the charity case." I must have been making a face, because they all started to laugh.

"She's your charity case actually, well, your Dad's. She was the award winner for the Martha Wayne Youth foundation Scholarship." I watched the girl curiously; she had a book laid out on the table, not even aware of us at all. "She should be D's minion."

That got Carlotta to turn toward the girl's table. "Hey, Samantha! Your Mistress is done with her plate, why don't you throw it away for her? You owe her that much."

The girl looked up from her book. When she didn't move, Carlotta kept going. "Well? Come on. She's waiting." The girl closed her book and oh so slowly started to stand.

I was done. "Knock it off." My voice was low, but it was enough to silence them. Carlotta simpered trying to smooth me over as if I were a wrinkle. "Oh, now, D, you do know she's way below your social circle right? I mean, she shouldn't even be here really." The girl said with a sniff.

I was up. "She got here because of her grades, not because her daddy had to make a call, which is more than I can say for any of us."

I made my way to the last table and sat.

"You don't have to stick up for me. You don't even know me." The girl said, looking over her glasses at me.

"I guess you don't know me either, because yes, I do." I held out my hand to her. "Delilah Wayne."

She eyed me suspiciously. "I know." Of course, the whole world knew. But she sighed. "You shake my hand you can kiss your popularity goodbye."

"Good. I don't like crowds anyway."

The girl seemed to smirk at that. "You're in the wrong family with that kind of phobia."

"I know, I'm so screwed."

She laughed, giving my hand a shake. "Samantha Cleary."

* * *

><p>Samantha kept herself only a few steps behind Delilah Wayne, eyes wide and wandering as they trailed through the house, making a beeline for her room. "I know the feeling." Delilah said quietly, feeling the sunlight flicker across her skin as they passed the windows of her hall. "I thought it was a castle." Sam made a sound caught between a choke and a snort.<p>

"I was four, come on."

"Are you kidding? It's close enough." Her eyes cut to her hand as Del snagged it, making quick to write a five digit code on her hand with an ink pen. The girl's dark eyes squinted behind her glasses. "For the door?"

"Yeah, everyone has their own ID. My computer tells me who comes and goes." She explained stopping at the double doors of her room. "Okay, Sam…I know you don't like dogs."

At the sound of the word _dog_, Sam touched her arm. Somewhere beneath the sleeve of her blazer there were the white scars of canine teeth tracking up her arm. "Doberman, right?"

"Yeah, but he can spend some time with Alfred or Dad if he bothers you." She said quickly, watching the girl squint her eyes and shake her head as if she was shaking off the lingering memory. "Just open the door." She said at last.

The doors opened revealing the sunbathed room. The Doberman was stretched out in the middle of Delilah's massive bed like he owned it. Seeing the girls he worked himself to the floor, stretching as he made his way to his owner. Sam was shaking. "He's not going to hurt you." Delilah said gently, rubbing Jax on the head. "Sit, Boy."

When he did, Sam extended her trembling hand out to the creature fighting the urge to rip her hand back when he tried to lick her fingers before they made contact with his short black fur. He seemed to close his large round eyes when she touched him with her fingertips. Delilah could hear Sam exhaling when Jax turned back toward the bed and resumed his position of lazing about.

"Do I need to send him downstairs?" Del asked, tossing her bag on the floor by a reading chair she had tucked in a corner of the room. The girl shook her head as Delilah took her bag from her and set it down.

"I still can't watch or read _Cujo._"

Delilah said nothing, letting the girl look around the room. Unfortunately for Sam, it actually was a St. Bernard that had attacked her. She was only a seven year old girl who was coloring with chalk in her own driveway when the neighbor's dog from across the way jumped through a screen door to get to her. To talk to Sam, she blamed the owner more than the dog, but it didn't make the fear any easier to conquer.

"I think I can manage. Or…I at least want to try." She amended, casting her eyes on Jax as Delilah settled next to him. The girl slunk down into a computer chair, eyeing the tower of neatly stacked envelopes. "Fan mail?" She asked.

"Pfft, please." Del snorted, rising to her feet to flip an envelope in her hands. "My parents…" She looked down, tracing the P that was written out in her father's hand.

Sam leaned back at that. "Wow, I know they say you're father's a playboy and what not, but that's seriously romantic."

"I think you read too many romance novels." Delilah said, setting the envelope back on the pile, gently touching the sticky notes that covered the first one on the pile. She could pick out her mother's swoopy script against her father's aggressive scrawl.

"Oh, come on! Both your parents held onto them apparently. That speaks volumes." Sam twisted the chair around as Delilah sank back down on the bed, her eyes still on the letters. "Haven't you read _any_ of them yet?"

"No…" The girl was wringing her hands in her lap. "I guess I'm afraid to. I don't want to stop learning about my mom… I feel like this is all that's left."

Sam opened her mouth to retort, but when someone began to bang on the door, sending Jax into a baying fit, she stopped breathing. "Damn it, Dick! Do you have to do that every time?!" Del yelled, wrenching the door open to let the dog out. He didn't even bat an eye when Jax scurried around him. "Practice, Miss Thing."

"Okay, okay. Give me five to change." With that she shut the door, not even giving him the chance to utter a word. She looked at Sam who had her head down. "You okay?"

"I'm good…" She said holding up a hand as she calmed herself. "You never told me that Dick was hot."

Delilah immediately put her palm into her face. "Oh, God, not you too! Now you sound like my team."

"A little old for my taste, but still nice to look at."

Delilah rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're just fine." She said sliding into her bathroom with her leotard.

"How come you didn't give me this much flack when I mentioned Drake? Huh? Answer me that."

"I still have no idea what you're talking about." Delilah called, leaving Sam to smile at the door.

"You are the worst liar in history. Just saying."

* * *

><p>It wasn't unusual for Jax to lay by his chair or follow him around the bat cave; however it was strange for the dog to be shadowing him when Delilah was home. The second the father and dog team slid into the hall, Wayne could pick up on the rattle of the uneven bars. It left him standing there in the doorway, watching his daughter straddle, flip and pirouette in the air. The mats gave a crack when her feet made contact. But his daughter was not alone today. Sitting with her legs crossed on the floor and several holographic screens around her was a girl he was sure he had yet to meet. He slid in closer, curious as to what the girl was working on. Nanotechnology and Kevlar? It seemed to have Damian's attention. The boy was sitting beside her, pouring over the notebooks she had scattered around her.<p>

"You're still too stiff." The words had him glancing away from the screens, watching Dick as he forced Del to straighten herself.

"It's that shoulder, isn't it?"

Seeing Bruce Wayne leaning against the wall behind her with his arms crossed to his chest, Sam wasn't sure if she could move. Dealing with Del's little brother was one thing, but Wayne himself? Oh, God. She watched wordlessly as Del gripped one shoulder in particular. "Yes." She answered with a hiss.

"Take a few minutes, and we'll run though it again."

Seeing both Damian and her father intrigued by Sam's project, the girl grinned. "Technology. It gets them every time."

The words seemed to make poor Samantha Cleary go rigid.

"I'm curious, just what are you working on, Young Lady?"

Sam pushed her sliding glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. "My independent study, Sir. Del's been helping me put it together. It's a bullet proof vest that's infused with carbon nanotubes and Kevlar." There was sweat rolling down her back, she was sure of it. But Bruce Wayne seemed to tilt his head. "Why would you choose this as your study?"

"Dad's a retired cop. Commissioner Gordon is my uncle."

That seemed to surprise them. "Mom's his baby sister." She explained.

"Someone's been holding out on me." Del muttered.

"Someone never asked." Sam retorted, her lips working into a smirk.

"Dad, this is Samantha Cleary. She and I go to school together."

"It's nice to finally meet you, I hear your name quite often."

Sam seemed to relax. "Likewise, Mr. Wayne." She answered curious to see the man crouch down and slide through her screens. "And how come you don't participate in something like this?" He asked, peering at Delilah.

"When would she sleep?" Sam asked with a laugh as the girl's face twisted.

"Sleep? Hell, when would I breathe?" Delilah stopped to take drink of her water, watching her father pick up one of the sketches. His eyes flickered from the graph-paper to his daughter. He knew her style when he spotted it.

"I sketch the designs, the rest is all her, I keep telling her she needs to apply for our engineer scholarship when college rolls around."

"Indeed."

Of course she had the idea that maybe her father would be interested in seeing it in prototype form. Not as a vest but as something else entirely. Oh, she knew the way his brain worked. "Did your father work for Gotham PD as well?" Bruce asked, pulling himself from his stance.

Delilah could only watch, aware her father was digging if ever so subtly. The Gotham Police Department did anything but walk on the straight and narrow. Only when James Gordon became commissioner did the department begin to untangle itself from the Falcone family.

But Sam shook her head. "No, he was a beat cop in Chicago. He had a run in with one of the Viti boys, the bullet barely missed his spine, but he was never the same after that. We moved up here after Barb…" They knew where to fill in the blanks. The Joker left Barbra Gordon to die, only for her to survive as a paraplegic.

"This must be very important to you then."

"It's just research, but I like the idea of creating something that could keep people from harm."

"I would very much like to see your project at the end of the school year."

Delilah bit into her lip to keep herself from smiling. Poor Sam was as red as a tomato, but she managed a nod. "S-sure."

"No pressure."

Bruce eyed his daughter but let his gaze fall back to Samantha. "Am I _that_ scary?"

"Oh, Lord, you have no idea." The girl squeaked, clutching her chest with exaggeration.

Bruce Wayne seemed to chuckle at that. "I'll let you girls get back to work. Miss Cleary, you would be more than welcome to join us for dinner."

The second the door closed behind the man, Cleary went slack against the wall. "Are you kidding me right now?" She cried, throwing a pencil in Delilah's direction. The girl only simpered, easily dodging the flying piece of wood.

* * *

><p>Delilah slid into the darkness of her bedroom after seeing to it that Sam arrived safely at home. She was just sliding down the door to the floor when the lamp flicked on, filling the room with light. Dick was sitting in her reading chair, her bag at his feet.<p>

"You got her involved didn't you?"

The girl let her head fall back against the door. "She listens to the scanners for me. That's it." Dick was up, her yellow cloak fisted in his hand. "Anything else? Did you tell her-"

"NO! She doesn't know. I don't want her to know. It's safer that way." Delilah worked herself to her knees, wincing when her shoulder began to ache with the slightest movement. "Besides..." she said with a ragged breath, snatching the cloak from him when she finally made it to her feet. "Dad's secret is not mine to tell."

He was watching her carefully. Without as much as a word he turned on the overhead light. "What's _really_ wrong?"

"One of the Red Hood's rounds made it through my suit. Sam dug it out, but it doesn't feel right."

Delilah nearly jumped out of her skin when Dick ripped the back of her shirt up. She could feel the tacky adhesive of the bandages pulling at her skin when he peeled it away from the three day old wound. It was certainly inflamed, red and full of puss. The more he eyed the hole in her shoulder the more he thought that something was glimmering inside of her flesh. "Where are your tweezers?"

"Top drawer, right-hand side in that bathroom." She managed, listening to the wood creak under his feet as he moved. "I think there's something still there." He said, rolling the computer chair at her. "Sit." She did, easing herself backwards over the chair. The girl's skin pricked at the feel of the cold tweezers, but the sensation was quickly forgotten when he started to dig. "I got it." But the words didn't offer the girl any solace, not when she could feel the object scrapping its way out of her flesh.

By the time Dick pulled the small black piece from her body, Del was gasping, ignoring her blurring eyes. She looked down at his hand, there sitting in his palm was a small chip with serrated points. "It looks like…"

"A tracking device."

Delilah stared at the piece when he handed it to her. It almost looked like…

"Dick?"

"What?" He snapped, coming up from her bathroom cabinet with a first aid kit. "Do you have any idea how stupid and irresponsible this is?"

"Dick."

"Your Dad is going to kill you, or at least make you wish he would."

"DICK!"

"WHAT?!"

"Does it look like a mini league of assassin's star to you? Or am I crazy?"

"I think you're just-" Dick's eyes wandered down to her hand, looking at the small bloody thing. "not crazy."

His dark eyes flicked back up at her. "What else do you know?" He asked as he remembered to recover her wound with clean bandages. She felt her body try and pull away from the touch of the cold salves. But only when he stepped away did she turn herself in the chair.

"You might want to sit." She said softly. He did. Slowly. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Delilah shook her head. "I know who the Red Hood is." Her voice left her in a whisper, betraying her of all the strength she thought she had. When Dick shot up, the girl found herself digging her hands into the computer chair.

"How?! Who?!"

"You know him too…"

That seemed to startle him. He just stared at her wide eyed, motioning for her to continue.

"Dick, its Jason."

He leered at her. "Excuse me? Look, Del, I don't have time to play games with you, this is serious."

"I'm not playing games!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "I'm not, kidding, jesting or joking. Not about this! Never about this! You know me better than that!" She turned from him, fisting her hands in her long dark hair. "He took off my mask, and called me by name."

"Everyone knows who you are!"

"Dick...I saw his face. He took his mask off." She said, letting her hands fall to her sides with a slap. Dick was pacing.

"How?!"

"Lazarus pit."

He paused. "Damian."

"I already confronted him." Del said, forcing him to let his hand fall from the door knob. "He confirmed it. Talia thought she would bring him back, thinking it would put her in Dad's good graces, only he didn't come back the same."

Dick was resting against the door, his eyes on the floor. "Why? Why haven't you gone to him yet? Why haven't you told him?"

"I-I-"

"Or were you too afraid of letting him know it was you?"

"No-It's not just-"

"You could have done the right thing, but instead you hid it!"

"Damn it, Dick! No! I know he already knows. I don't know _how_ to tell him about Jason." She eyed her phone as it hummed on her desk, but turned away from it. "I'm afraid of what it's going to do to him."

Dick pulled the door open. "Did you ever think of what it would do to him if his own daughter hid it from him?" When he stepped out into the hall, the girl just sank into the chair. She could hear Dick's footsteps out in the hall as she picked up her phone. A picture text from Sam.

The phone fell out of her hand. "DICK!" his name left her mouth in a shriek, as she swiped the phone off the floor and scrambled for the hall way. He was paused, staring at her as if she had lost her ever loving mind.

"He has her." It was all she could get out as she chased after him, shoving the phone at him. "Who has what? What's wrong now?" But the words stuck in his throat the second he looked down. Sam's sobbing bloody face covered half of the screen while the Red Hood posed behind her.

Del yanked the phone from him, and dashed out of the hallway, Dick close behind her.

* * *

><p>"DAD!"<p>

Her yells put the bats in a panicked frenzy. Batman had just hopped in the car. "Not now, Del. Damian's on the loose." He said gesturing to the empty costume cases.

"Dad, the Red Hood has Sam!"

His glowing eyes widened as he lifted himself out of the car. She immediately gave him the phone. "What do I do?" She asked, watching his mouth open and close.

He spun on his heel at her. "Why is he sending _you_ coordinates?"

In that moment the girl felt so small. Perhaps the shoes she was trying to step into were much larger than she originally thought. "He knows who we are, all of us." She said evenly, taking a second to swallow down her uneasiness. "Dad…its Jason. I _know_ its Jason." He stepped back from her as if the words that came out of her mouth were tainted and vile.

"DAMN IT!"

He pointed at Dick. "You. Keep her out of trouble." He said, turning back to the Bat-mobile.

The second it roared out of the cave, the girl was running for the table. "Fuck. My grappling gun isn't here." _Damian._ The girl turned and fled up the stairs.

"Oh, hell no!"

"He said to keep me out of trouble. Not that I couldn't help."

* * *

><p>All Sam could taste was blood. Trapped on her side, the girl could feel the dirt and blood matting on her face. It was a large building, it smelled of mold and rust, but beyond that she hadn't the slightest idea where she was. One moment she was in her bed, the next…trapped in this godforsaken place. She forced herself to squint her eyes when her body trembled, causing the links in the shackles behind her back to clink as they shook.<p>

"Are you absolutely sure she'll come?"

Sam didn't recognize the whimpering sound that filled the air when a boot pressed down on her rib cage. "Oh, trust me, she'll come." At the words the woman lifted her foot. Sam could only make out the blurry shapes of her trim body and her long dark hair. The man in the red mask was sitting on a barrel, just staring at her. "I hope she kicks your fucking ass!" She screamed, aware of how hoarse her voice had become. But the words seemed to do nothing but bring a throaty laugh out of the woman.

"You have a lot of faith in the little thing, don't you?" the woman asked, grabbing Sam by the hair. "Do you really think she stands a chance against us all?"

When her head hit the ground, she squinted, watching the shadows swarm along the scaffolding above their heads. There were so many shapes. So many people. All this? For Del? "Jesus, it's a trap." Sam breathed, choking on the dust that caked around her mouth. The woman crouched down by her face.

"A bright one isn't she?"

Lying there, Sam watched the shadows begin to lessen. Something, something was here. _Del? _ The thought was quickly dismissed when the moonlight that poured in from the glass ceiling turned to shadow. Sam forced herself to twist, trying to look away when the glass shattered above their heads.

A body in a yellow cloak dropped down to their feet. If that was Del, then who was already here?

"IT'S A TRAP!"

The room erupted into chaos.

Delilah ducked under a blade, biting back a groan when it sliced her arm.

"Lady Shiva!" The woman barley had time to look up before Nightwing dropped on her, knocking the blade from her. Delilah slid to grab it, using it to block the strike of a ninja the second she got her hands on it. In that moment, the glass above them broke again, landing Robin right on top of him. "You really _don't_ know how to use that, do you?" He said snidely, not even blinking when the blood splattered across his face when he stabbed the man with his own sword. She didn't hesitate, she kicked him, snatching his sword from him before he did something he might not regret, but their father certainly would.

Delilah tumbled backwards, decking the next opponent with the butt a sword before launching the blades into the wall. She made a bee line for Sam, even if it meant laying a few bodies out on the way. She dropped to her knees, digging into her harness.

"Took you long enough." Sam croaked, feeling Delilah push on her hands to keep them still.

Del pulled her balaclava from her mouth. "Be as still as you possibly can, I'm going to use some acid to break up the chains."

The second the acid began to eat through the metal, she yanked the girl's arms apart, keeping her from touching the substance as it continued to eat its way through the floor. They could work on getting the cuffs of later. She was working on the set around the girl's ankles when the sound of tsking forced her to look up.

The Red Hood was perched on a beam just above them, wagging his finger at her. The second he jumped down, she slid back. She stepped carefully, minding where he was trying to drive her. When he finally swung, she jived out his path.

"Not so ready to fight now, are you?" He asked, watching her dodge him again. But when she came up, she was smiling. "No. I'm just stalling."

Batman came swinging into him, knocking him through the rusting metal walls. Delilah put her mask back over mouth and started to scramble her way back to Sam when the room began to fill with black plumes of smoke. Smoke bombs.

"You can't lift her." She heard Dick Whisper, when he pushed her out of the way to scoop Sam up. He could use the smoke to escape with her. She did nothing but nod. Turning, she could make out Damian's shape in the lingering smoke, spying her grappling gun, she yanked it from him.

"Hey!"

She was up and out into the night air. Had she not scanned the buildings, she would have missed the brief glimpse of a red mask turning a corner around a nearby roof top. _Damn it, Jason. _ She hit the roof rolling, the second she got to her feet she went after him, he turned his head just in time for her to come flying at him with an elbow. They both skid across the tiled surface.

He recovered first, casting a shadow across her when she pulled herself to her feet. "Why?!" She found herself screaming at him. "WHY?!"

But he only gave her silence, pulling his mask from his face as if it was restricting him. His hand fell to the inside of his jacket. It was then she saw the outline of a scabbard. "Get away from me, Pipsqueak."

"Or what?! You're going to hurt me?"

"YES!" The answer was a strangled one, his right hand was on the sword, but his left seemed to be struggling to keep the sword in the scabbard. In a blink he rushed her, the sword was free, and her body hit the wall behind her.

"Jason!" There was no answer; his eyes were gazing right through her, a dead gaze. The blade was shaking against her neck. She could feel the blood begin to trickle in small beads. He didn't want to do this. Surely he didn't want to hurt her. "Why are we doing this to each other?" She whispered, forcing herself not to swallow. "I don't want to see anyone hurt. Not even you." But things would not end this way. They all end up hurt at some point in some way. No one in this life was left unscathed. It might have been Jason in front of her, but Jason surely wasn't home.

"Do you remember the robin?" she asked, aware that the words made him flinch. "I let it go. I let it go, and do you know that damn bird comes back every season?" The sword moved away, but not enough. "_You_ were supposed to let it go, you idiot. I was waiting for you." Another step back. "You promised!" He made another move back. "I'm sorry, Jason, I'm so sorry." She quickly made her move, butting him in the head. She went to kick him back, when someone hit her from the side. Just as she spilled to the ground she caught the red and yellow fabric of a costume out of the corner of her eye. _Damian_.

She had pushed herself, just in time to watch the hooded Robin duck the blade. The next thing Del knew, there was blood splattering across her face. Damian had literally skewered him. "NO!" The boy ripped the sword from Jason's body, just as the girl scrambled to her feet.

"Get out of my way!

But she couldn't help it, she found herself rushing the boy. She grabbed his armed hand, forcing them both down to them both to move when the Red Hood swiped at them. "You idiot! He's dead! He should stay dead! Damian lept up, kicking his sister square in the chest. In oversight, perhaps he didn't think she would be slamming right into Jason.

What Del didn't expect was to be flung forward. The second she hit the pavement, Damian was flying over her, filling the air with the sound of metal scraping against metal. _"Del, I need your help. I don't know where Sam lives." _

The roof top was streaked with red. And even though Jason was visiblely wounded, he seemed to be matching Damian step for step and attack for attack.

"ROBIN!"

They both looked up, watching the moon as it was blacked out completely by the Dark Knight. The Red hood suddenly turned and leapt off the roof, disappearing into the unlit alley ways around them. Robin and Batman were rolling, but the second her father came up with Damian's collar fisted in his hands, the girl made her exit. "I'm on my way."

* * *

><p>By the time she found Nightwing, Delilah was shaking. All she could smell in the night air was blood, but when she stepped into the light of a street lamp, she realized she was covered. Dick's glowing eyes widened.<p>

"It's not mine." She breathed, her eyes falling on Sam who was strangely curled up against Dick's chest. "Is she-"

"Her face is going to be bruised. I think she has a few broken ribs, but other than that, she'll be okay. I gave her a mild sedative."

The Cleary house was bathed in a sea of flashing lights that flickered from red to blue. When the two were spotted carrying the girl, they were rushed by uniforms. "Oh! My baby!" Mrs. Cleary cried, reaching out to Sam when the paramedics whisked her from Nightwing's arms.

"I think she's going to be okay." But a frantic Evelyn Cleary suddenly turned on her husband, her hand came down on his face with a smack. "This is your fault! I told you! I told you she didn't need to be hanging around _that girl_!" Delilah felt her heart drop to her stomach.

It was a sallow faced Gordon who pulled the pair apart. "Evie, Evie stop it."

"But that's my baby, Jim! Why would they do this to my baby?"

_Because, she's my friend. She's important to me, and now they know it._ The words were right there, ready to fall from her mouth when Gordon began walking in their direction.

"Does he know who did this? Is it tied to the Wayne girl? I know she called in about the text, but when we arrived to the location, it was empty."

Nightwing nodded. "I'm afraid so, but I think they're after something bigger, than young Samantha Cleary. It was the response they were after."

At that moment, Sam's mother came flying forward, she grabbed Nightwing's arms.

"Thank you, thank you for bringing her back to us." The way she looked from him to Del with tears swimming in her eyes, it made Delilah want crumble right there in the street.

* * *

><p>To Nightwing's credit, he didn't say much at all. Only when they arrived to an empty bat cave did the man open his mouth. "Del..." The girl was ripping off her blood stained cowl and cloak. She only spared him a glance.<p>

"Please, please don't say it." She whispered, half afraid her words would get lost in the sound of the bat chatter. "I know what I have to do." She amended, heading for the stairs.

She ducked under Alfred's shocked gaze as she slid by him on the stairs. His eyes fell to the yellow blood soaked ball she had tucked in her arm. "Delilah?"

"I'm okay, Alfred."

The girl paused, watching Dick's shadow cut across the light the fled up the stairs. "Do you want me to take you, or Alfred?"

Del stared at the ceiling a moment. _I don't want to do this. I don't. _But what other choice did she have? She peered over her shoulder at him, trying to ignore his apologetic face. "Would you mind? I think Dad's going to need Alfred when he drags Damian back here."

The girl gritted her teeth at the sound of the boy's name coming from her own mouth. It was the League of Assassins that had taken Sam. It was the League that had brought Jason back to life. They supplied him with the tracking device that Dick had found embedded in her shoulder. Jason didn't need to know where she went, but _they_ did. What she didn't know was why. But something told her, her so called brother knew. He knew a hell of a lot more than he was letting on. He had to know they were poking around.

"I hope Batman reams his ass."

"Miss Wayne!"

"He's going to come right to you when he's done with him, you know." Dick chided after her as she continued up the stairs.

"I don't even care." She couldn't believe the words were even coming out of her. It must have surprised Dick, because he simply stopped dead in his tracks. "If he does, I deserve it."

* * *

><p>The charms on Del's bracelet jingled and shook with every step she took. She knew the stark corridors of Gotham Memorial well. Maybe a little too well. For a Friday night business seemed to be slow. She didn't bat an eye at the lobby or the poor wretches that sagged in the chairs of the waiting room.<p>

"Miss Wayne?"

The girl glanced at the nurse that hurried to catch her from behind the nurse's station. "I'm here to see Samantha Cleary." She said, continuing down the hall with Dick in her wake.

"Visitor hours-"

"What room is she in?" Delilah said coolly, cutting the woman off when she paused in the hallway. The woman seemed to be struggling. Did she keep with hospital policy? Or did she tell one of their largest benefactors what she wanted to know? But as Dr. Elliot and Mr. Cleary stepped out of a room down the hall, the girl quickly dismissed the nurse, an continued toward them. Dr. Elliot spied her first.

"Delilah. Are you all right?"

"Fine." She cursed at herself for her clipped tone and then set her eyes on Mr. Cleary. "May I speak with her a moment?"

As if her words were a trigger, the door shot open. "Oh no you don't! " Delilah had no choice but to back up as Sam's mother came charging out into the hall. She let the woman drive her into the wall. "It's because of you that she's here!" Del didn't flinch when the woman's hand came down on her face, the sound of a palm hitting flesh seemed to echo through the hall.

Mrs. Cleary suddenly recoiled when it dawned on her just what she had done, but by her stern expression, she was far from apologizing. "You put my daughter in this position, I don't know how, but I know it was you!"

"Mrs. Cleary!"

All Delilah could do was touch her stinging cheek as people reacted to corral the frantic woman. Would her mother be any different? She didn't know the answer to that.

"Miss Wayne, I'm so-"

Her blue eyes flicked from Mr. Cleary to his wife. "No. She's right." Delilah said evenly, pushing herself from the wall. "It's my association with her that puts her at risk. I just wanted to talk to tell her myself." She said, glancing at the door as it opened again.

"Aunt Evie, let her. It's only fair to Sam."

Barb. Delilah couldn't look at her as she crossed the threshold into the dimly lit hospital room. She shut the door softly behind her.

Sam's face had already taken on a blue gray shade as the bruises started to take shape.

"Hey."

Her right eye was completely swollen shut. Delilah eased herself into the chair beside her. A chair that was still warm. Her mother hadn't left her side, not once.

"Hey yourself." She answered, swallowing when her voice came out thicker than she hoped. "Sam, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

The girl seemed to take a short breath. No doubt a painful one. "Why are you apologizing? You didn't do this to me." Sam croaked, forcing herself to turn her head so she could face Del properly. Her eyes fell to the girl's fingers, watching her twist and pull at the charms on her bracelet.

"You know—you know who did this—don't you?"

Delilah only nodded, her eyes cast down on the tiny silver charms. She lifted her head, startling Sam with the way her eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

"Yes…and they know me too." Del answered rising to her feet, her fingers working the small silver charms off her bracelet. They were small silver pieces. Small glasses, the word 'Nerd' and a small bead engraved with the word 'friend'. The second Delilah put them in the girl's palm; she knew exactly what was going on.

"Wait. Wait-no. Del, come on. You're my best friend." The plea was small, weak and painful to listen to.

Delilah's lips felt heavy as they twisted into a half-hearted smile. "You're my _only_ friend." She whispered, forcing the girl's fingers to fist over the little objects. "And they know that…" she said, trying to ignore how tight her mouth was feeling now that Sam was just shaking her head.

"It's not safe."

"But I gave these to _you_."

Delilah nodded, forcing herself to turn and march for the door the second her lashes started to feel wet.

"Maybe one day…"

Delilah pulled the door closed, trying with all her might not to listen to Sam on the other side. The second she looked up, she realized Batman was standing there with Commissioner Gordon. He had heard everything. She only glanced at him, but quickly looked away.

"We need to take your phone as evidence, Miss Wayne." Gordon said, pushing his thick round glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

"Of course." She said, fishing the object out of her pocket. She let it fall into one of the red taped evidence bags. "Anything else?" She asked, forcing down the overflow of emotions. "If so, we'll contact your father, but this is all, for tonight." With that she nodded, quietly thanked him, and started her way back down the hall where Dick was waiting for her. Only, Dr. Elliot reached her first.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

She found herself stuck when he grabbed her by the arm. The cut she had sustained was starting to bleed through her shirt. "it's just a cut." She said simply. But the man seemed to sigh. "Let's take a look at it just in case."

This was the last thing she wanted. She followed him into one of the sterile rooms, well aware that Dick had moved his position to right outside the door.

"Have a seat." The man told her, gesturing to a stool as he went through the ominous cabinets and drawers. "Can you roll up your sleeve for me?"

Delilah did, realizing the red gash was a little deeper than she expected. He even seemed surprised as he seated himself across from her arm. "Now, that looks nasty." He commented, setting about cleaning the site. "How did you do that?"

"Horsing around with my brother."

"Oh, the young man Bruce adopted, that's right."

Delilah knew Tommy Elliot and her father were childhood friends, not that you could tell from the way they acted now. It was as if they hardly even knew each other. "How is the old man?" He asked, tossing the bloodied cotton swabs into the waste bin.

"Grumpy." Del supplied, scrunching her nose when it began to sting.

"Sorry."

"He still sucks at Stratego." She added, knowing it was their game of choice as children, if they weren't running around the cemetery.

The man gave a throaty laugh, but then said something that caught her from left field. "It amazes me how much you look like your mother."

Delilah blinked, letting the good doctor explain himself.

"She and I went to the same school. She wanted to be a doctor herself at one point."

"She couldn't stomach the sight of blood…" Delilah said quietly. Small cuts and a couple sutures was one thing, but when it came to cutting someone open, or the really gory looking stuff, her mom would toss her cookies.

"Is _that _what it was?"

Del nodded, watching him suture the cut. "She switched schools and started for a business degree."

"Started working for Wayne Enterprises and met my childhood friend instead."

"Small world." Delilah chirped, unsure why the statement made the air suddenly uncomfortable.

"Indeed." He said, cutting the strand. "There you go."

"Thank you." Del murmured, the charms on her bracelet rattled as she worked the sleeves down. When Dr. Elliot's fingers touched the small charms, Del froze.

"Let me guess, the teacup and treble clef that's Alfred. The gymnast and the film reel must be your brother, because the P, piano and the paintbrush must definitely be your mother. She was a brilliant artist."

Delilah nodded. When his fingertips touched the last three, charms, she felt the bracelet tighten.

"If it wasn't for the B, I wouldn't know that would be for your father. A pumpkin, and a bat?" When his hand fell away, Delilah quickly pulled her sleeve down, letting the bracelet tuck underneath.

"Halloween. It's kind of our thing." She didn't tell him that pumpkin was a symbol of the first time she had ever met him. And the Bat, well, anyone who knew him, could have made a guess at that. But he seemed to like that answer. "Good thing that Halloween is coming then isn't it?" He asked walking her toward the door.

She smiled, nodded and thanked him again, latching onto Dick the second she crossed into the hall. "Get me out of here." She whispered. "Now." He raised he brow at her, but didn't argue. He hated this place as much as she did.

"Everything okay?" He asked the second they slid out to the sidewalk. The girl nodded and then shook her head, leaving her arm entangled in the crook of his elbow as they crossed the sparsely lit parking lot.

"I know Dr. Elliot is a friend of Dad's, and that he means well, but that man gives me the creeps."

"Why?"

Delilah stared back at the hospital, counting the windows that were still aglow. "I don't know. But there's just something…"

Dick sighed. "There goes that Wayne intuition again." He said with a grumble flinging the driver's side door of his car open.

"And it's hardly ever wrong." Del told him. But the man didn't argue. He knew that to be true.

* * *

><p>Sometime in the wee hours that were left of the darkness, Del could hear her door creak open. For a moment she didn't even breathe as she listened for the footsteps. She didn't hear any. She simply heard the cushion of her reading chair squish down as someone sank into it. Peering in the edges of her vision without lifting her lids she could make out her father's imposing frame. For a long while, he just sat there, but then he rose to his feet and slowly made his way toward her. Del couldn't help it, she kept her eyes closed. She could felt his thumb smudging the remainder of the sticky tears that had yet to dry on her face.<p>

"Why does the right thing feel so terrible?" She asked with a sniff. She expected him to berate her. To chew her up one side and down the other, but it didn't happen. He just pushed a stray hair back behind her ear. Did he think she was punishing herself well enough?

"The right choices, seldom feel like good ones." He murmured. So this is why he kept the world at arm's length. "She's my only friend…" Delilah whispered, watching the light flood into a corner of the room when he opened the door to slide back into the hall.

"All the more reason to keep her safe."

He was right. God, as much as she hated it, he was right.


	12. Damian

**A/N:** And another one. This one more or less explores how Damian and Del work as siblings. If the last chapter was confusing, the first person prose were merely illustrating how Sam and Del had met. So essentially it showed how the friendship began and ended. *cough* for now.

**Update: **Added in a few fixes, sorry about that!

* * *

><p>It was the soft flutter of paper that tore Del from her dreamless sleep. The bed was empty, void of Jax's presence. It left the girl squinting at the light that seemed to pour from the windows. <em>I overslept?<em>

Pushing herself to sit up, she followed the noise, spying a hazy shape of a boy sitting at her desk with one of her mother's letters.

"What are you doing in here? She managed, trying to ignore the urge to lay her swimming head back down on the pillow. "And why are there two of you?" She groaned, putting her palms into her eyes. "One of you is bad enough." Realizing what he was reading, she shoved the blankets back, clamoring to get out of bed.

"Put those away!" She snapped, trying to reach out to snatch the letter from him. The boy jumped back, landing on his haunches on one of her low shelves, knocking over picture frames and knickknacks in his wake.

"Pennyworth gave you chamomile tea, did he?" he asked, watching her stumble and latch onto the poster of the bed before she ended up hitting the ground.

Delilah sank to the floor, resting her head against the mattress. That explained a lot. No wonder her father was so grumpy so often. "How did you get in here?" She grumbled, forcing herself to her knees so she could begin to pick up the things he had knocked over.

"I spotted the number on the girl's hand, it way too easy. Pretty sloppy really."

"Samantha!"

Delilah pulled herself from the ground, shaking the glass out of the broken picture frame. "Her name was Samantha, now off!"

The second he hopped down, she ripped the letter from his hand. " How the fuck can you be so smug?! You saw what they did to her! She's never hurt a soul her entire life!" Del turned to toss the letter on her desk, but just as Damian thought she was on her way to being rational, she turned on her heel. "I don't understand you. I don't. Sam was nice and respectable towards you wasn't she?"

Damian said nothing.

"ANSWER ME!"

"Yes." He said shortly, watching her shoulders fall when she just sighed and shook her head.

"I don't get you. I really, really don't. Doesn't it bother you? Even a little? How can they groom you to lead humanity when you couldn't give a rat's ass if it burned? It's just a bunch bullshit."

"It is not!"

She turned to him then, the sun causing her eyes to gleam. "Right, try explaining that to Sam. What did she do to deserve this?" Delilah wanted to know, yanking a pair of pants from her closet. She didn't wait for the boy to answer her; she simply slammed the bathroom door, leaving him standing there in a sea of broken glass.

"Nothing…she did nothing."

* * *

><p>Damian was crouched on the floor, an old childhood friend fisted in his hands. The glass was in a neat glittering pile. "You sound like Father." He accused, staring at the stuffed Batman.<p>

"Good, at least one of us does." Del snipped back. It was all she needed to hear to know that her father had given the boy a scathing lecture. Then the kid did something she hadn't seen him do before. He sighed, setting Batman back on the shelf.

"So, do you want to tell me why the league is trying to keep tabs on me?" She asked, fishing into her desk and tossing Damian a small clear bag with the bloodied tracking device still inside. "Dick found it in my shoulder; I can only guess that they have these things inside Jason's rounds." She watched him turn the bag over in his hands, inspecting the tiny thing with his shrewd eyes. "Unless you have the balls to tell me you don't think it's related."

"He's the Red Hood." Damian said evenly.

"The Jason you knew is dead." He tossed the bag back at her, ignoring her leer. "It's one of the League's. But why they would want to track _you_ is a mystery. You're not even that important."

Delilah dropped the bag to the floor. Dick had fried it the minute he knew what it was, but just to be sure she crushed it under her shoe, satisfied to hear it crunch. "Maybe not to you, but I know I'm one of Dad's weaknesses."

Squatting down to pick up the shattered piece she stared at him. "I'm not so naive that I don't realize what I am."

The girl rose from her crouch. "Jason tears at his rational thinking, it's emotional for him. It's going to soften him." She said, watching Damian clasp his hands behind his back. "What are they plotting, Damian?"

Outside the bare trees bent to the will of the wind. What would happen to the branches if they didn't bend? Surely they would break. "I don't know." He said softly. "I DON'T KNOW!" She just looked at him with those eyes. His father's eyes. They just regarded him the same way. She didn't believe a word that was coming out of him either.

"I'm just the distraction." He said quietly, turning his face to the sunlight. "I'm just her pawn."

Delilah rose from her crouch slowly, trying to shake off the chill his words had given her, but she didn't utter a sound. This was the most emotion she had ever seen come out of the kid.

"I don't know how to make him believe me." He said, slamming a fist on the shelf in front of him, making the frames rattle in place.

"Actions. Actions speak louder than words, Damian." She said sidling into the space beside him, but she didn't spare a look at him. "You have to show him that you can play by his rules."

When he gave her nothing but silence she spoke again.

"So, Jason softens him up. You're the distraction for the set up. Then what am I?"

"The final blow."

She looked at him then. "Alright, what are we going to do about it?"

The words seemed pull him into facing her. His own face pulled and twisted into that incredulous look of his. Surely he was too young to be making such wrinkles. "We?" He asked, raising his brow at her. "Did Pennyworth give you too much tea?"

"I didn't stutter did I? This is my family they're toying with."

"I don't need your help." He scoffed.

"Yes you do. You don't know Dad as well as you thought."

Damian turned away from her, leaving her just a tad curious when he crouched down and retrieved the sword she had tucked into the frame of her bed. "If I _let_ you help me, then we have work to do."

"Just what are you saying, Ninja Boy?"

"That you're slow-it's embarrassing."

* * *

><p>Alfred seemed a little miffed to see her up so early. "Well, good morning, Miss."<p>

"Good morning, you sneak." Delilah said, gingerly plucking an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter. She picked another and threw it at Damian.

"I warned you he'd do that, didn't I?"

Del pushed her father's paper down, beaming at him when he glared at her over the wrinkled folds. "You mentioned something about it." She said when he yanked his paper away from her. "Don't forget about today."

"Today?" He was folding his paper now, smoothing out the wrinkles she had made."What about it?"

"Kid's Quest. Downtown Park, the one near Wayne Enterprises? Hello? C'mon, I know you didn't forget." Of course he didn't, not when she was constantly reminding him. The girl tipped his cup forward, nearly done, but not yet.

Bruce Wayne was most definitely a philanthropist with his money. But when her own mother became the head of the PR department, she sought to change the way the community viewed Wayne Enterprises. And the best way to do that was through Wayne himself. He hated giving speeches, but according to Paige Larson, actions spoke louder than words. So if he was actively doing something with his hands right there in the community, he could more than likely get out of giving speeches and still have the same effect.

"Its good press for both Kid's Quest and Wayne Enterprises." She said, wiggling her brows when he just sort of smirked at her. Some days when this girl opened her mouth, her mother came out.

"Can't a man finish his coffee?"

"Hurry it up."

She was immediately swatted on the head with the newspaper. "Pushy isn't she?"

Alfred seemed to scoff. "She comes by it honestly, Sir."

Bruce tipped back his cup to polish it off, when his eyes fell on the boy who was standing against the doorjamb, rolling the apple in his hand.

"He's going too."

That had the pair of them staring at her wide eyed. But instead of explaining it to her father, Del turned to Damian. "You want to lead humanity, and then you need to learn to be a part of it. Sometimes you just have to jump in. Time to sink or swim."

"What? But I-"

"Chill, I'm not going to let you drown or anything, but I will crack your skull if you're anything less than nice, make no mistake of that."

"And how do we explain-"

"Big brothers Big sisters Program." She said quickly, glancing at her father. "He's going to be on his best behavior. Right, Damian?" At least…she hoped so.

The boy bit into his apple, watching Del pop her hands on her hips as she stared at him. He rolled his eyes at her. "Yes." Their father seemed less than enthused about the idea.

"We'll see about that." He said, easing himself away from the counter. "Let me change my shirt."

The second he was out of ear shot, Del fisted her hand in Damian's shirt. "Remember what I said, you have to play by his rules."

Damian smacked her hand away. "His rules, not yours."

"Whose rules do you think I follow? This is your chance, don't blow it."

* * *

><p>Standing there in front of the grounds all Del could see was <em>her<em>. There were still flashes of a life she could barely recall still residing here. Long before wood on the jungle gym began to split, she could still see her mother standing there, waiting for her on the other end, or waiting to catch her at the bottom of the slide that was so covered by tags it no longer reflected the sunlight.

"Hey."

Delilah blinked, realizing her father was waving his hand in front of her face. The girl automatically shook her head, trying to shake the memories off.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"No…sorry."

"Can you help Mrs. Darrel register new volunteers? Damian and I are going to help Trevor start to take some of this down. The new equipment should be arriving by noon."

"Yeah, no problem."

She moved to turn toward the sign in table when her father stopped her. "No picking up any you shouldn't, clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

Del stood there in the wet grass, catching Damian's eye when he looked back. "Don't blow it." She mouthed, turning toward the table where a round older woman sat. The second the woman saw her, she beamed.

"There's she is. I was wondering when my help would show." She said, bending back to look at the girl. There was a small line of people. Delilah immediately grabbed an extra clipboard. "Sorry, I overslept."

There was a cool soft hand on her forehead the second her words left her mouth. "Well, you're not warm. Had to check."

Delilah bit down a laugh as she changed out the forms to a fresh page, she didn't even cast an eye at the next person in line when their shadow washed over her. "Name?"

"Timothy Drake."

The pen rolled from her hand, down the clipboard and into the grass. She went to pick it up the same time he bent down to retrieve it for her. Their heads met with a smack on the up rise.

"Geez, you two haven't even left the volunteer table and you need hardhats." The old woman beside her commented, watching the teens sheepishly grab their heads.

"Tim."

The boy held out her pen. "Delilah."

"Uh, thanks." She grumbled out, taking the pen from him, trying to ignore the ache in her temple. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't that kind of obvious?"

"Oh, Jesus, Delilah, put the boy to work before you run him off." With that Mrs. Darrel rescued the clipboard from her, leaving her to put her hands on her hips and stare at the woman. "Honey, can you use power tools?"

Tim smirked at first. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Got any weight restrictions? Any health problems that keep you from doing certain tasks?"

He shook his head, letting the old woman scribble her way down the page. "Praise Jesus, Halleluiah. Hand him a hat, Girl, and tell him where to find Trevor. He'll set you up."

Delilah rolled her eyes, reaching into a box of white hardhats. "I've _never_ ran anyone off I'll have you know." She said cheekily, more to the woman than to Tim.

"No. She just scares them off."

"I'm far from scared." Tim jested, taking the hardhat before Del smacked him with it.

"Why don't you introduce him to Trevor?" When Delilah hesitated the woman picked up the girl's work belt and hat. "I can handle this without you." She said with a wink.

"Mrs. Darrel, one might assume that you're doing this on purpose." Delilah whispered.

But the old girl's ruby painted lips just smiled, lifting the laugh lines around her mouth. "One might be right, _now go_."

Tim said kept quiet, his shadow stretching out walking in pace with hers while the long wet grass clung to their shoes. Tim gripped the back of his neck. "Dad mentioned they were going to be here today…so…"

"It's cool. We could definitely use the help." She said quickly, opting to stretching her hands up and stare at the clouds rather than having to look at him. As the white tops of the hardhats came into view, Delilah all but skipped. Her father and Mr. Darrel were taking down one beam of the jungle gym, while Damian and his grandson were struggling to carry their rotting beam to the trash pile. It didn't help that Christian Darrel was nearly two feet taller than the boy. To his credit, Tim jumped right in, lifting the beam level with Christian. Damian was full on glowering.

"And she brings help." Trevor panted.

"He brought himself. Don't look at me." Delilah said, giving a whistle to the trio. All three popped their heads up. "Tim, Trevor Darrel. Mr. Darrel, this is Timothy Drake."

Mr. Darrel only nodded toward him as he and her father heaved the beam into the mounting pile of rubble.

"Sweetheart, can you handle a pair of bolt cutters?"

Delilah nearly choked. "Can I handle a pair of bolt cutters? Oh, ye of little faith."

"Good. Then you can start taking the swings on the old set down. They're so rusted, they're beyond saving."

Delilah froze, eyeing the tired arch of swings.

"Saving the structure?" she heard her father ask.

"Oh yeah, it's got good bones, just needs to be cleaned up."

Delilah only took a breath, picked up the bolt cutters from the tool pile and started wandering her way toward the swings.

"Del, use a ladder like a normal person!" But the girl already had the bolt cutters hanging off her tool belt and was halfway up the pole before her father's words ever reached her. Much to his chagrin the girl only flashed him a smile as she straddled the top of the swing set. "Too late. Maybe next time."

"Sometimes I think that girl is part spider monkey." Mr. Darrel grumbled, rubbing his stubby gray beard.

Bruce crossed his arms infront of his chest. "She's something alright." He said, with a shake of his head. "Damian, give her a hand." Damn if the boy didn't do the same _damn_ thing.

"This is ridiculous." Damian hissed, cutting the bolts from one side as she worked from the other. "What's the point of this?"

Del watched the top of a bolt roll to the sand below, letting chain sag into a pool of rusty links. "Yeah well, so is your face." When he reared his head up at her with that exasperated look, she shook her head. "To give back to the community." She told him, as she clipped the second bolt. That's when the girl noticed a small thing in a blue and purple tutu looking up at them.

"Back up, Sissy, I don't want you to get hurt, okay?" The little blonde thing only nodded, and backed up to the edge of the sand pit.

"Sissy? Who is she, and why has she been following me?" Damian wanted to know. If she didn't know any better she'd say he sounded annoyed.

"Annabelle Collins. Everyone just calls her Sissy." She nodded toward a brown haired boy that seemed a year or two younger than Damian himself. The boy was sanding on the metal seats of the seesaw. "She hangs out at Page for Parents while her brother has his piano lessons."

The man beside him seemed to look up at them. "She's not bothering you guys is she?"

"Yes-"

Delilah immediately smacked her brother on the back of the head. "She's fine, Mr. Collins." She chirped.

The man tilted his head, but nodded before crouching back down to his work.

"Be nice." She hissed, reminding herself to cut the next bolt.

"I don't do _nice_."

"Clearly." Delilah muttered, letting the soft giggles drag her eyes to the ground. "Don't mind him, Sissy, he's a crab."

The child merely gave them a wide gap-toothed smile.

"Why are you following me around?" Damian growled, his green eyes lowering to slits when the child just shrugged.

"She's not going to tell you. She hardly says boo to a goose. She hasn't spoken above a whisper since her mom died last year. Who knows," Delilah said with a shrug, "Maybe she likes you. Can't imagine why, you're not _that_ likeable."

"I don't want to be liked, I rather be feared."

"Yeah, yeah." She murmured, cutting the last bolt in half. She could only smile to herself when Damian simply did a backflip off of the pole and snatched up the swing that Sissy was trying to drag off to the rubble piles.

"Stop following me." He snipped at her, but she just kept skipping just behind him.

"What's so funny?"

Del swung her legs over and dropped herself to the ground beside their father. "Watching my little minion get crushed on by a four year old in a tutu."

"So, he's your minion now? Why are you two so chummy all of a sudden?"

"Chummy? Don't kid yourself; we're just tolerating each other. I've killed him hundreds of times in my head."

Bruce Wayne was not amused; therefore, Batman was definitely not amused.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not like I'm going to act any of it out. It's just wishful thinking." She couldn't help but duck when his hand connected with the back of her head.

"I see where it starts." Damian noted, as he wandered back for the next swing.

Delilah just shrugged. "He does it to me, I do it to you, it's a vicious cycle."

"Actually, it started with Alfred." Bruce amended, picking up a couple of the swings.

"I could see that." Delilah said with a nod, grabbing the last two on the ground.

"I can't. You mean you actually let that servant-"

"_He's not a servant_."

Damian rolled his eyes at the pair of them.

"I open my mouth and my father comes out. What the hell?"

"I told you as much! You don't listen very well, do you?" Damian said snidely, but the two behind him were already laughing. "And…neither does he… Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

><p>By the time the sun had climbed to the center of the sky, it had burned the dew from the grass. Damian could feel it warming his back as he swiped his choice of sandwich from the concession line they had started. He was reduced to <em>this<em>? Standing in line with these people?! How humiliating.

"So… how well do you know Delilah?"

His eyes flicked to the tall dark haired boy next to him. Oh, that guy. "And why is that any concern of yours?" Damian hissed, snagging a water bottle from the cooler as he made his way down the line.

"Sorry I asked."

It was around that time that a boy further in line spoke up. "Tim, right? What do you want to know?"

"I was just going to grab her lunch for her -"

"Chicken Salad sandwich, cracked pepper chips, and water. She's a creature of habit."

"Thanks."

Damian peered over his shoulder at the brown haired boy. "It's going to take a lot more than this to get on her good side." The kid told him, grabbing a bag of chips before working his way to a picnic table where Mr. Collins was sitting.

Damian only glared at him. What gave him the right to know his sister so well when he hardly knew her himself? And he was her brother, even if it was only by half.

Damian plopped himself under a tree, curiously watching the black haired boy approach Delilah.

"Are you imagining the swings?" He asked, lowering himself next to her under the shadow of the empty swing set. He set the extra food in her lap.

Her blue eyes seemed to be focused on the white puffs of clouds that skimmed above their heads. "Imagining the way they were, I guess." She said, looking down at the paper plate. "Thanks."

"No problem, had to enlist some help though, I can't say I've ever seen you eat." He said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Except at that lunch, but you only took three bites."

"Three? You were counting?" She asked, giving him a sidelong glance when she pulled the top layer of bread off her sandwich, and then opened her chips.

"Not really. I just have a really good memory." He said watching her shake the chips onto her sandwich and then put the bread back in place.

"I used to think I had a good memory." She said quietly. "My mom used to take me here on her lunch breaks." She added, forcing herself to take a bite of her food. "Now…all I can remember is bits and pieces."

Tim glanced up at the building in front of them, knowing it was Wayne Enterprises that cast the largest shadow down on them. "So you were in the Wayne tower all that time?"

"There's a child development center on the second floor. So yeah, there were days that I was in the same building with both my parents. I just…I just didn't know it."

"Makes you wonder how well he can see the park from his office, doesn't it?"

She seemed to pause at that. "I never…I never thought of that, but he can see it pretty well actually."

Tim shrugged when she went still. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything-"

"No, no. it's fine. It's not the first time something like that came up."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but when she didn't reply, he let the silence build between them, filling with the sound of soft conversation with the stir of the city on a lunch break.

"I do that too." Tim said suddenly, forcing her to look at him. "Think I'm forgetting my mother. And just when I start to think I've forgotten her completely, something always seems to pop up just in the nick of time to remind me."

"And it's the smallest detail." Delilah supplied, watching his lips kind of upturn when he nodded. Delilah Wayne met Timothy Drake long ago. Not in the crowded halls of Gotham Prep, but in the crowded rows of the cemetery.

He seemed to open his mouth to say something, but stopped when a tiny girl in a tutu came bolting forward. Delilah had just popped the end of her sandwich in her mouth with the girl plopped down beside her, beckoning the girl to tilt her head to the child's folded hands as she whispered in her ear.

"Oh, great." The girl groaned, rising to her feet. She was dusting off the sand when Tim made himself stand up.

"What's up?"

"Just a bunch of buffoons with cameras." She grumbled before turning to the child. "Can you go tell my Dad? He's over there chatting with the Darrels." When the girl nodded, Del gave her a light push. "Run, Rabbit, run."

"And just what are you going to do?"

"Negotiations."

"Oh, we're in trouble."

"Hush up and watch."

* * *

><p>She left Tim standing there, aware that Damian had rose to his feet. "Just stay there." She mouthed to him, urging him to sit back down with the flat of her hand. When the girl spotted the bunch with cameras she met them on the sidewalk, trying to ignore the click of the cameras or how bystanders would stop and stare at the charade.<p>

"Are you here to take pictures or is someone actually trying to write something? Show of hands."

When a few hands slowly popped up, she beckoned them forward with the crook of her finger.

"Who for and what about?"

"_Gotham Gazette_, Miss Wayne. We were told that you and your father were here, and thought it would make for an interesting story."

The girl seemed to tilt her head. "There is an interesting story here, but it's not about us. We're just volunteering; it's not the first time we've done this sort of thing. You know that. But maybe you would rather talk to Darrels, the creators of Quest Kids? They can fill you in better than we can anyway."

She watched the reporter and his fellow photographer trade looks with one another, when the photographer just shrugged the reporter nodded.

"That would be nice."

"I thought I taught you to play nicely." The sound of her father's voice made the group chuckle.

"I am. _I promise._ These gentlemen would like to talk to Mr. and Mrs.'s Darrel."

"I'm sure they would be glad to, they're right over there." Her father said, gesturing to the elderly couple as the journalists crept by him.

When Wayne's eyes landed on the next young man. He immediately went about digging a letter out of his pocket. "I'm a- I'm from _Gotham Teen Magazine_." He stammered, showing Mr. Wayne the letter first. "We've tried contacting Miss Wayne on many occasions, about doing an exposé. Everyone knows her name." he said with a shrug. "But nothing more, aside from the times we've seen her in the paper of course. We know she does quite a bit of volunteering so we were hoping…"

"Let me see if I can get her to agree. As you can tell, she's kind of prickly."

"Prickly? Who are you calling prickly?" Del said loudly as her father turned her away.

"Several attempts to contact you, huh?"

"Yeah. In the trash bin they went." Delilah said through her teeth. "Don't even try to tell me you _don't _do the same thing."

"But wouldn't it be _good press_?"

The girl found her mouth hanging open. "You've been waiting to do this to me, haven't you? Just lying in wait."

He simpered. "That's beside the point. If you can take control on how the media will spin your story, don't pass it up, because if you leave it to the tabloids…like _Gotham Noir_…"

"Okay! Okay!" she screeched, spinning away from him. She looked at the reporter and sighed. "alright."

When the reporter produced a recorder, she found herself inwardly groaning. "Anything you don't wish to discuss?" he asked.

"My mother's death." The words left her quickly. "Uh, look, I know you want to interview me, and that's fine. But I really would like to get back to work. Any chance that thing can still record from your pocket?"

He seemed a little surprised. "Yeah."

"Good. Do you know how to use a paintbrush?"

His eyebrows went up.

"I'm _not_ working while you're standing around. We're too short handed for those shenanigans."

His lips cracked into a nervous smile. "You got it."

"So what's your first question?"

"What do you think your flaws are?"

Damian looked up at the sound of his sister's laugh.

"That's kind of obvious isn't it?" she asked.

"I can be pushy, impatient and-"

"Hard headed."

"Gee, Dad, I wonder where I get that?"

"Might want to add sarcastic to that list too." Her father said peering over his shoulder.

Delilah lifted her arms only to let them fall with a slap. "Again, one of the many traits that happened to his before they became mine." The girl said, jerking her thumb toward her father as he walked ahead of them.

The reporter seemed to be laughing. "You and your father must be a lot alike."

The girl actually stopped as if she were thinking about it. "I guess in a lot of ways, we are." She said stopping to pick up the paint and paint brushes. "We'll be painting on the little playhouses." She said eyeing Damian as he squashed his thumb with the hammer while Sissy peeked at him from inside.

"Damian, what are you doing?"

The boy stared at her dubiously. "Must I state the obvious?"

"Squashing your thumbs?" she asked, taking the hammer from him. "Here." She ripped his crooked nails out with the claw, trying to ignore the man behind her. Using a straight edge the girl made a line with a pencil all the way down the seam. Grabbing a nail from the box at his feet she tapped it, certain it was set straight, she smacked the sucker in. "Don't leave your thumbs at the base; just make sure it's set first."

"A nail gun would be easier." He grumbled.

"A ten year old with a nail gun, no, I think we're good." Del tried not to cringe when she thought of what Damian could do with _just_ a nail gun. Yeah, she would rather see a nice feature in the paper. Not a headliner about a mass murder.

She stopped to crouch at the opening of the playhouse. "Sissy, why don't you come out of there? This one isn't finished yet. You can help Damian."

"And how is she going to do that?" Damian wanted to know, banging in yet another nail.

Delilah picked up the box of nails and handed it to the girl. "You can hand him nails, think you can do that?"

Damian stared at her. "You're doing this to torture me."

"Yes. No. Maybe?" The girl called, flagging her father in Damian's direction.

"Sometimes I think you two speak in code." The writer commented, watching how her father picked up on her cues.

Del shrugged. Getting her father and Damian to work together on something was a little harder than she had actually anticipated. Noticing that Tim was up on the scaffolding painting the higher points she only gave the boy a wave.

"Oh, so this is how you negotiate?"

"What's your next question?" she asked, sending a glare in Tim's direction, before she squatted down to pop the paint cans open with a screw driver.

"What do you think your best qualities are?"

"I uh, can we pass on that one for now?"

"Don't like answering questions about yourself, do you?"

"Not really." The girl answered, dipping her brush into the silvery paint.

"Would you mind if I asked around about that one?" He asked, filling in the spaces of the board with paint as she cut the edges in neatly with her brush.

"Sure."

"How about something easy? Like, what's your favorite food type?"

"Chinese. I'm a sucker for pot stickers. But I'll eat just about anything, especially if bacon is involved." Delilah said, across the way, watching her father and brother working in tandem. As much as she hated to say it, they did that rather well…when Damian wasn't trying to stab things to death.

Sissy had moved off to a tree, seemingly happy to entertain herself under the heavy branches. However, it was the distinct sound of crackling wood that had the girl dropping the paintbrush.

"Sissy! MOVE!" The second Del's voice broke the calm, there were heads popping up everywhere. The heavy branch came down just as a flash of black jacket grabbed the uncertain child.

Delilah beat the chorus of shoes hitting pavement by a matter of seconds. Sissy Collins was staring up from the flat of her back, her blue eyes big and wild. The only thing that had kept the heavy branch from falling on top of her was Damian.

"Are you guys okay?!"

"Get this thing off me." Damian demanded. He was quick but apparently not quick enough, it had caught him on the leg. Del quickly scooped up the girl, moving out of the way when Tim, Mr. Collins and her father moved to lift the heavy branch.

"Is she alright?" Mrs. Darrel wanted to know.

"She looks okay, just a few scratches." Delilah said, turning the girl's hands over.

"That was a perfectly healthy tree. I don't understand."

That's when the girl cupped her hands gently around Delilah's ear.

_Someone was in the tree. _

Del pressed a finger to her lips, watching her father bend down and inspect Damian's foot. He was straight faced through the entire thing, but when her father touched a particular spot, she could see the boy biting on his own cheek. "I'm fine." He said, yanking his foot away and hoping up.

She let the girl down, setting her eyes on the break of the tree branch. It was clean halfway through, almost as if someone had cut it so its own weight would force it to break.

_"What?"_

Delilah looked away, curious to see Annabelle Collins tugging on the bottom of Damian's jacket. When she didn't answer aloud, and continued to tug, the boy rolled his dark green eyes and forced himself to crouch. There was something wrong with the foot; she could see it in his face when he forced himself to stand on it. But when the little girl whispered in his ear and ran away, his face went blank.

"What'd she say to you?" Delilah asked as the group started to disperse, watching him kick the loose twigs that had come down in the fall. Perhaps the little psycho was more human than she thought.

"Thank you." He shrugged. "As if I care."

"Yes you do...we both know that could have killed her." She said softly.

"And just what did she say to _you_?"

"That someone was in the tree."


	13. Tim

**A/N: As you guys can probably tell, I'm kinda going through the list. -Building those layers- Hope you guys enjoy this one. **

* * *

><p>The world was bleak and colorless place when I first laid eyes on Timothy Drake. I was hardly eleven years old when I wandered from the manor, too angry at my father to care that world had become a frozen wasteland.<p>

I remember the snow being deep enough to cover my boots as I trudged up the hill to the cemetery, watching the leafless trees shiver in the biting wind. But the cold did nothing to comfort my bitterness, no matter how I wished it would just numb the ache I felt.

"_She wasn't a part of the plan! I don't know what I'm doing. Sometimes, sometimes... I think she'd be better off with someone else." _

I could still hear my father's words replaying in my head when I reached the wrought iron gates of the cemetery, they were wide open, as wide as my mother's arms would have been. I wasn't supposed to hear him and Alfred discussing me, I knew as much when I confronted him on the stairs of the bat cave.

"Why didn't you just give me away then?! It's a little late now!" I remember watching his eyes become so wide when the words came out of my mouth.

"Delilah, wait…" But I was already up the stairs. I shoved over the first bookcase I came to trying to break his path so I could flee outside. I didn't even grab a coat, I just wanted out of there as fast as my legs would carry me.

And now I was wandering the rows of snowcapped grave markers, pressing my arms against my chest as if it would keep the December cold at bay. The cemetery was eerily quiet, leaving me alone with the whisper of the wind as it nipped at my ears. Looking around however, I noticed that for once I didn't have the place to myself.

The roses the boy had in his hand looked as red as blood against the gray world around us. He looked in my direction, forcing me to look away. I locked my eyes on my mom's head stone, feeling it draw me closer. _Mother, friend. Missed. _God, I missed her so much right in that moment. I wanted her to hug me. I wanted her to say it was okay.

Pressing my back against the stone, her marker felt like ice but I didn't budge. I simply pulled my knees under my chin, forcing myself to endure the painful touch of the chill as my body heat began to melt away.

"I'm so lost, Mama. Tell me what to do…"

The words made my throat ache. I pressed my head into my arms, feeling the small flakes of snow skirt around my cheeks. The delicate fluff that touched the tear tracks on my face seemed to stick to my face. Listening I can sometimes think I hear her talking to me. "What's wrong, Baby?" I know that's what she'd ask. But I heard nothing. I didn't even hear the boy's feet crunching the snow. I just felt his cold leather glove touch my hand.

"Are you okay?"

I forced myself to look up, squinting through the swirls of snow. His eyes were as dark as an evergreen, his black hair seemed to remind me of a raven's feather, but like me his nose and cheeks were red, and it wasn't just from the cold.

"I'm f-fine." I managed, mopping my face with my sleeve. He quickly ripped off his coat, draping over me.

"You're also turning blue." He noted, crouching down beside me. "What are you doing out here?"

I didn't want to admit it, but the coat felt warm around me, warm enough to make my flesh sting when it tried to thaw itself. I watched as a couple deep red petals rolled down the hill, skating down the snow drifts in the wind.

"Sitting with my mom." I managed. "Thank you…"

He tilted his head, regarding me with a sorrowful knowing smile. It's not the kind you make because you want to. It's the kind of smile you make because you're fighting to hold yourself together. He gently touched my mom's headstone, brushing the snow out of the grooves of her name.

"You have someone here too, don't you?" I asked.

He just looked beyond me for a long moment before nodding. "My mom's here too." He said. "A few rows up the hill."

Nearly my entire family was here, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Both sets of my grandparents were on these grounds somewhere along with my mom and Jason too. "You look really familiar, do you live around here?" He said gently, watching me draw in the fresh snow on my mother's plot.

I pointed down the hill, knowing that just across the small valley you could see the pitch of the rooftops of Wayne Manor now that the trees were bare.

"You're…"

"Delilah!"

I could see the broad shape of my father's body when he weaved his way through the gate. I jumped to my feet, sliding the coat off."Thank you." I said quickly before darting in the other direction, hopping over plagues and monuments, my father in pursuit.

"Del."

I zipped around a mausoleum, trying to evade capture. "NO! Go away!"

"I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did! You _always_ mean what you say!" I cried, ripping my arm from his hand when he managed to grab it.

"Just listen-"

"Why should I?! You don't want me around. You never do!" I turned to run back down the hill, when my boot got snagged on the molding of a marker. The frozen ground felt like cement when I hit it, the snow was no help, it only made sure that I was soaked.

It was in the shadow of that monument that he was able to grab me. At first I fisted my hands and proceeded to wail one him. He just pressed me into him, suppressing me. "Stop it, that's not true."

His hands were cold on my face. "You're frozen." He said, tearing off his coat. "What are you doing running around without a coat?"

"I was mad. Still am!" As if that explained everything.

He threw the coat around me, crouching when he pulled it closed. "Del, I was just venting. This is new to me; I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know if I'm doing it right."

"You took in Dick and Jason." I told him, feeling his thumb brush under my eye.

"A little girl is a bit different."

"I'm a girl, so what? It's not rocket science." I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "I just want to belong." I said softly, watching him look down at the snow between us and then back up at me.

"I don't mean to push you away." He said gently.

"Well, stop it." I said smartly, putting my hands on my hips the best I could. His coat all but swallowed me whole. "But I guess I could learn to be more understanding too." It was then I began to realize how much of a toll being a single parent took on my father. Maybe it was easier when the children that came into your life were half grown. Not a little girl who had no real role models to speak of except for a man who donned a cape and cowl nearly every night. It was from this moment I can say that the idea of _Page for parents_ was born.

Dad seemed to nod as he pulled himself up. "We'll both work on that." He said, holding his hand out to me. I know they were cold, but to my aching hands, they were warm. He looked up, eyes locking on the stone behind me. His lips broke into that sad smile of a mourner. It was enough to make me turn around and stare.

_Wayne_. Of all the headstones to trip on. I remember tracing the snow out of my grandparent's names. "I think they made their point." I told Dad, feeling his arm drape around me as we walked toward the gates.

"I think you're right."

Looking out over the rows of weary stones and statues, I didn't see the boy. Stopping with Dad by my mother's plot, I realized that there was a rose lying in the heart I had drawn in the snow. "Did you put that there?" I asked, watching Dad's fingers kind of linger on the word _missed_. When my words finally seemed to register, he looked down at the crimson colored rose and shook his head.

For a while I thought the boy was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. I didn't see him again that winter, no matter how many trails I left there in the snow. But he always left a flower behind for my mother. I finally had to ask the grounds keeper, about the black haired boy. He only gave me a name. Janet Drake. I started leaving flowers for her too.

The first time I saw Tim face to face since that day in the snow, we paused, stared and simply nodded to each other. It was if speaking would somehow break the silent oath that we had forged. The oath of the motherless.

* * *

><p>"Oh, here she comes."<p>

Tim turned, glancing out the window as Delilah came running for the door, holding a folder over her head as if that would stop the rain from pelting her. She blew through the door, bringing the wet with her when she held it open for the boy on crutches.

"It's just rain. It's not like you're going to melt." He told her.

"Of course she would! Our girl is made of sugar." The woman behind the counter cried.

"Or I'm related to the wicked witch." Delilah said, unwinding her dripping scarf from her neck.

"I'm sure it's the latter." Damian grumbled, shrugging out of his wet coat.

"I should have left you at home." Del retorted as she hung up the coats. The second she turned around and saw Tim standing there, her smile fell just a little.

"Drake. I swear, you're starting to stalk me." She told him, bellying up to the counter beside him. The dark haired woman behind it just snickered as Tim held up his empty hands.

"I'm not. I swear. I just want to help."

"Well, we kind of do a little bit of everything around here." She said, wrapping an arm around Sissy when the girl came to hug her.

"We do tutoring, we have group activities for the kids, we do a bit of big brother big sister shadowing. And then for the parents there are the life coaches, family councilors not to mention the network of parents." After all, sometimes what the parents really needed was to talk to others who had been in their shoes.

Tim opened his mouth, when the girl snapped her fingers. "You like to tinker…" She said, "Do you think you could help a kid with her science project?"

He just surrendered. "I can try." He said, following her to another room where a young girl was working at a table with what appeared to be a mini rover.

"Hey Meg, did you get it to work yet?"

The girl sighed. "Not yet. I think I screwed up on my wiring."

"I would've taken a hammer to it." Del muttered as they approached the table.

"Don't tempt me." The girl warned, flipping one of her long pigtails behind her shoulder. Her eyes fell on the guy who was all but gawking at her little robot.

Delilah just gave the girl a smile. "This is a classmate of mine, Tim. He's harmless." She explained as they watched Tim poke and prod at her project.

Tim held up his hand. "Yes, harmless. Science fair, right?"

"He's a bigger nerd than I am." Del whispered.

"I heard that."

"No you didn't." Del interjected, looking from him then to Megan. " Do you think you can help her get it running?"

"Sure. That is, if you want the help, Miss Megan."

"Yes! I'm about to lose my marbles." The child groaned, resting her head in her hands.

Del grinned, slapping Tim on the back. "Make sure she does the work, you're only the help."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." He said, waving her off.

"So! Shall we open it up?"

* * *

><p>By noon the rain had yet to let up. It pelted Gotham without mercy, sending any bystanders on the street scurrying for shelter when the lightning cracked across the sky. Damian peered over his book, watching his sister's hands work in tandem with the young boy at the piano, the music was soft, sweet even. It seemed to add to lull of the place.<p>

He watched her hand reach up and turn to the last page in the music, her eyes however stayed on Max's hands. When the last note faded from the air, the room burst into applause.

"How do you feel about that recital now?"

"Good."

Del squeezed the kid around the shoulders, before working herself up from the bench. "You'll do great."

Dotty, the woman behind the counter popped her head up. "Some lunch was dropped off; it's in the break room." She told them, just as a robot came zipping into the front room.

"It's alive!" A girl with pigtails cried. Damian didn't miss the subtle nod that went from his sister to Timothy Drake. He couldn't help but frown.

"I'm going to let the rest of the staff know there's grub." Delilah said high-fiving the little girl with the remote in her hand before she disappeared down the hall.

Max darted to another room, returning to the piano with a Zesti cola bottle in his hand.

"Make sure to use a coaster, Maestro." Dotty warned the boy. He quickly righted the situation before twisting the top off. But instead of facing the keys he turned to Damian. He wanted to converse? Oh, fantastic.

"Clean break or a fracture?" he asked gesturing to the black cast on Damian's foot.

"Break."

"And you were walking on it yesterday?" Tim asked, raising a brow.

"_Dang_."

Damian rolled his eyes, as the boy took a swig of his drink.

"You two are easily impressed." He told them, watching Del return with a big box, she set it on the table.

"Dotty, remind me to pop in at Gino's and thank them profusely."

The room slipped into a soft harmony, part soft conversation, part rain and thunder. Del had eased herself beside her brother, sitting lotus style on the cushion, as she turned his book over in her hands. _Titus Andronicus_.

"Why am I not surprised?" She asked. "I should be, I mean, you're ten."

"What is it?" Tim asked, stopping to take a bite of his sandwich.

"Titus." She said simply, putting the book back where he had it, when Max slowly eased himself up from sitting on the floor. He was pulling at his shirt, his young face looking pinked.

"Max? You alright?"

"Not one of Shakespeare's more popular works." Tim said, watching Del unfold herself, her brow wrinkled. Something wasn't right.

"It's hot." Max complained, as he faced the piano.

Tim was pulling himself up when the boy turned around, catching a hold of Del before he hit the ground. It was only when Sissy let out an ear piercing scream did he realize there was blood all down the front of Delilah's shirt.

"MAX!" Eyes wide and wild, Del quickly turned the boy over, trying to keep him from choking on the blood that was starting to ooze from his mouth. "CALL 911! NOW!" out of the corner of her eye she caught the half empty bottle of Zesti cola sitting on top of the piano. _No. No. NO!_

"Del, they're not going to get here fast enough. Memorial is two streets down." Tim told her, scooping the boy up.

Del only nodded, prying Sissy from Tim's leg when he went to dash out the door carrying the brother. Only when Damian grabbed the screaming girl did Del make a move for the door. "Find all the Zesti cola bottles. Bag them!"

"Zesti cola?"

"Just do it!" She cried, darting out into the rain.

* * *

><p>Tim forced himself to swallow, even against the sound of the thunder or his own feet splashing through the stagnate water that washed across the sidewalk from the road, he could hear the gurgle of blood in the boy's throat.<p>

"Hold on, Buddy, just hold on." He managed, trying to grip the boy closer to him, but his hands were slick with blood. The water behind him would turn from red to pink as he cut through the streets, trying to dodge umbrella toting bystanders. Some would curse and yell but the second some would get a glimpse; their hands would fly to their mouths. Was this city so terrified that no one had the balls to try to help him?

Behind him he could hear the sound of blaring horns. He glanced back just in time to see a bloodied Delilah jump and slide across the hood of a taxi. "Just keep going!" she yelled over the clamor of the storm, the cabby's shouts chasing her down the street.

She reached the doors of Gotham Memorial before him, because the second Tim made it through the threshold, the half dead boy was whisked from his arms, as if they knew. The second his arms were empty, Tim sank to the floor right there in the lobby, certain his lungs would burst.

Delilah still had the intercom microphone in her had when she slid to the floor by the nurse's station, oblivious to the flurry of chaos they had brought with them. All she could do was give Tim a nod, and slowly count to ten.

Del pressed herself against the wall, letting her hands hang over her knees. Her clothing was clinging to her now, warm from her body heat but still sopping wet. She reeked of the rusty twang of blood it was all too familiar smell that had bile lingering at the back of her throat. The boy beside her had his eyes cast down to his bloody hands as they sat limp in his lap.

"I hate this place." He grumbled, leaning his head back on the wall.

"Preaching to the choir." Delilah croaked, watching nurses and doctors move through the halls. Del leaned her head back, closing her eyes to trying to tune out the low chaotic hum of the place, when a familiar voice had her opening her eyes once more.

"Del?!

_Sam._

The bruises across her face had lessened, turning an almost gray color, rather than the dark blackish blue tone that Delilah remembered. Her face still looked painfully inflamed. No doubt the eye patch was to protect the eye that had almost swollen shut. Fresh guilt bubbled to the surface.

"Sam…" Del was working her way back up, when Mrs. Cleary snatched Sam closer to her. The woman looked at her wide eyed. "Why am I not surprised? Whose blood do you have on your hands now?"

"Is that really necessary?" Tim asked, looking up at the woman.

"Mark my words, you hang around this girl, you're going to end up paying the price."

"Sam, take your mother and go. The bill has been paid." Delilah said, surprising herself by how steady the words had left her. Sam didn't waste another second; she pulled her mother's arm, trying to drag her toward the receptionist window in the lobby.

"Mom, just let it go. We're going home, _just let it go_. Del I'll-"

"You'll do nothing." Delilah said firmly, biting back the apology that wanted to crawl from her lips when she say the hurt wash over Sam's swollen face.

"You really meant it…"

"I did."

The second Del could no longer see Sam or her mother; she put her head on her knees.

"What was _that_?" Tim asked, tilting his head at the girl. "You and Sam are like-"

"Not anymore!" Del spat, realizing how bitter the words tasted in her mouth. That seemed to surprise him. She couldn't even look at him. "It was my fault." She said softly. "Again."

Tim was plotting his words carefully when a white coat came from the same room that Max Collins had been taken. "Delilah?"

Dr. Elliot seemed a little stunned, but he slowly crouched down in front of the girl. "I'm starting to see you in here a little too much." He said gravely, gesturing for the kids to stay seated when both of them tried to get up.

"How is he? Will he-"

"He's critical, but with some luck, he might pull through." He shook his head. "You know I'm a surgeon. Why did you have them page _me_?"

"You're very particular. I knew you wouldn't hand the case over to just anyone. You'd pick the best of them."

He nodded, patting her knee as her father and a frantic Mr. Collins came through those sliding doors. Sissy had her slender arms snaked around her father's neck, her face red and eyes swollen from tears. Even now she still looked terrified. _I know just where you are._ She thought. _I've been there._ The memory would be with her forever and there was nothing Del could do to take it back.

"Are you Mr. Collins?" Dr. Elliot asked, taking the father and daughter aside. Delilah was still watching them when her father cut across her vision.

"Are you two okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." Tim's words were so soft that Delilah nearly missed them.

"Del?"

The girl blinked, taking her eyes off the broken Collins family. "I wish I was numb." She whispered. "Because this…this will never be okay."

Delilah couldn't describe what she saw flickering across her father's face, but when he simply offered her hand she took it, letting him pull her to her feet and right into his arms, pulling her close so she could whisper to him.

"It's the same...came out of a Zesti Cola bottle. I told Damian to bag it."

"Good."

With that he released her, and gave Tim a hand up. "Tim ran him all the way here." Delilah murmured.

"Says the girl who beat me here."

"I wasn't carrying an eight year old boy." Delilah argued, watching him eye the floor. What was the use of praising a good deed when it could be all in vain? She could read it on his face.

"At least he has a chance." Her father told him. "A chance he might not have had otherwise."

* * *

><p>There was no stopping the constant replay in her head. She could still see the shimmer of fear in Max's eyes when he latched onto her. How frightened he became when the blood that should have stayed in his body started to pour from his mouth. He had grabbed onto her because she was the rock, the one who made everything right. And what did she do? Nothing. She did nothing. She couldn't make it stop, she couldn't take his fear away. She didn't even tell him it was going to be okay. Maybe her mind was trying to keep her mouth from telling the boy a lie.<p>

"I didn't even try to console him." Del whispered, listening to her footsteps echo through the halls of Dick's apartment building. He only glanced at her when they stopped at his door. "Stop that." He told her, pushing the door open.

"I shouldn't even be here. I should be-"

"Uh-uh no bat cave. If I left you at home there's a 1000% chance you would do something insanely stupid."

"You say my ideas are stupid anyway." She whispered, wandering toward the wall to floor windows.

"Boss's orders. You're thinking with your emotions, not your head." He said, slinging his leather jacket over the back of the sofa.

"As if you've never done that." Del shot back, watching her reflection trace the trails of the rain with her finger tip. From here the city was beautiful. The buildings were all aglow, shining like beacons in the darkness. And yet, the girl knew that the closer to the earth a person was, the darker the city would become.

"I have. It's dangerous."

The girl let her arms fall limply to her side as she finally turned away. "I should be doing _something_." she cried. "If you guys don't want me to go out-fine! But I could be running tests and taking samples right now."

Dick shook his head. "Damian took a sample from the bottle that Max opened. He's running the test."

The girl just stared. "Damian? _He's_ running the test? She didn't know if she should be shocked or horrified. "Oh, that's just great!"

"Yes, Demon Spawn is running the test; you know your Dad's going to double check it." He said, watching her crumble on the sofa. Like any good brother he worked his way to her, sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

"Hey. No, don't do that." He said, pulling her hands from her face when she rested her head in her hands.

"I just-I just have this really, _really_ bad feeling..."

"You don't know what's going to happen." He told her, giving her hands a squeeze.

"So where is this Robin prospect of yours?" She asked, changing the subject all together. Dick could have rolled his eyes. Father like daughter.

"He'll be around shortly. Food should be on its way too."

Delilah shoved herself from the sofa, pulling her hands from her brother's grip. "Is he skilled?"

"Very. Martial artist with a good sense of discipline and self-control. And he's smart. I almost want to say he's got a bit of experience with acrobatics too, but he could stand to learn a thing or two."

Delilah couldn't help it, she shot him a smirk. "No one is better at that than you of course."

He chuckled. "Only one comes close, and that's because she has this awesome instructor."

"Did she ever mention how much of a butthead he could be?"

Dick held up his hands as he plopped himself on the couch. "Yeah, but you don't want to hear what he says about _her_." He said reaching for the remote, stopping only to block the pillow she threw at him.

"So I'm thinking…_Tombstone_." This is the part where one of them would start the one liners. He half expected her to come off with 'I'll be your huckleberry.' But instead she came to the side of the couch and stood there, holding a pamphlet in her hand.

"Bludhaven?"

Dick took a breath and let it out. "I was going to talk to you about that." He stated, turning the TV right back off.

"So…you really are thinking of leaving. Is that why you want another Robin so badly?" At least her voice came out calm, conversational even.

"No. Yes. Maybe just a little?" He could see that look swimming in her eyes, like her heart was tens seconds away from being ripped out and there was nothing she could do about it. Oh, but Dick Grayson knew why. From the day she arrived she had been his shadow. "I'm not leaving you, just Gotham."

The girl bit on her lip, not quite sure how she felt, she just turned to the door when someone began to knock.

"And that would be the food."

"Remember this spot. We're not done with this conversation." She told him as she pulled the door open. Tim was standing there holding a white paper bag. For a long moment, all she could do was stare at him. Now all his sudden interest made sense. _He_ was the Robin prospect.

"Hey…again."

Delilah threw the door closed, leaving him out there in the hall.

"You're kidding me." She muttered, sitting down on the arm of the sofa when Dick went to the door himself.

"So you've met."

Del glared at him. "You _know_ we have. We go to the same school, Genius."

"Oh, good. This won't be awkward then."

"The hell you say-"

"You guys know I can hear you, right?" Tim asked through the door.

"All I'm asking is that you hear him out." Dick said, watching the girl huff at the ceiling.

"Okay." She groaned, sliding to her feet when Tim came through the door, looking rather sheepish.

"There better be pot stickers in that bag."

* * *

><p>"You're totally mad at me." Tim noted, watching the girl pick at the food on her plate. Not that he could blame her, after today his appetite wasn't on the radar either. Del just let the chopsticks fall with a clatter, shoving the plate away.<p>

"Yeah. She's mad."

Dick immediately plucked the untouched food off her plate. "Eh, she's not mad at _you_. She was caught off guard and now she's beating herself up about it."

"Shut up, Dick."

"You're not psychic." He told her as she pushed herself away from the table. Damn if he wasn't right. Was she angry at Tim? No. But she had an inkling something was off, why didn't she act on it? Why didn't she corner him and confront him?

Tim turned in his chair, watching her pause at the window, tipping her head back as if she was staring up at the sky trying to see something other than concrete and glowing windows.

"He's getting closer to that edge isn't he?"

The words seemed to put a shock down her spine. True, Batman was slowly starting to shed more blood than he'd ever been known to. And while he was still clinging to his morals, even she knew it wouldn't take much to sway him now. How many times had Dick or Commissioner Gordon pull him back from the brink? And if Dick really left Gotham… _Oh, God_.

"Yes." She whispered, watching her breath fog on the glass. "I don't think Batman has been the same since…" _Jason. _But no one in the room would say his name. Not even her. Now it just seemed like a far off memory.

The girl pressed her head against the cool glass. "He does need more help out there." She said, listening to one of them rummage around. "Dick, if you leave…" Del's words hung there when she turned toward them. All she could do was stand there, defeated.

"I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure Bats is stable." He assured her, watching her shoulders slump at his words. "Nor am I going to leave you shorthanded. That's why _we_ need _your_ help."

Del sat on the instep that broke up the large space. "What could I possibly do?"

"Despite what you think, he listens to you. He's more likely to think this through if you're backing it."

The girl pressed her elbows into her knees as Tim came and settled beside her with his long legs. He handed her a stack of papers.

"What's this?"

"Did you notice anything weird about the accident yesterday?" he asked, staring up at the ceiling. Dick really needed to learn how to dust his ceiling fans.

"Yeah, the branch looked like it had a perfect break halfway through. Like it was cut."

Del looked down at the papers, realizing they were the volunteer forms from Quest Kids.

"How did you get these?"

"I'm just borrowing them." He told her. "I'll put them back, but you know who normally comes and goes. I don't."

The girl shot him a scowl, but carefully started to go through the stack. For a moment Tim was sure the lead was dead, but when Del's brows started to knit together all bets were off. It was enough to have Dick moving to stand behind her just to get a peek.

"Dr. Thomas Elliot." He read over her shoulder.

"I don't remember seeing him there."

"Maybe that was before you showed up. You never know, he could have gotten an emergency call."

"Plausible deniability, whatever, he's still creepy." She said, shaking her head. Out of the stack, there were only a couple of names she didn't recognize. "I just…I don't get the motive. Why go after the Collins? They're an average working class family. I'm sure he struggles from time to time, but I doubt Mr. Collins was into anything that could come back on his kids."

Del let the last paper in her hands flutter to the floor. Unless it wasn't the Collins they were after…

"Mom. Sam. Max. Out of all the cases those three have one thing in common." She said softly, wringing her hands so tight that almost looked bloodless. "Me."

"You're mother's death was a homicide wasn't it?" Tim asked carefully, as if the words might set her off. But the girl only looked at the floor as she nodded.

"Yeah. The report says she bled out from her injuries. But when Bats ran a tox screen on her, he found high levels of MDMA and venom in her blood. The same mixture was found in all of the Zesti Cola cases. Sam was injected with the same concoction."

"So there could be a copycat."

"Gotham isn't short on crazy people." Dick told them, scrunching his brow when there was a knock on the door.

Delilah only bobbed her head, as she gathered the forms, paying no mind to Dick when he crossed the space. "That's what I'm thinking. Someone's just using it to their advantage. I just…I don't know who."

"Bruce."

Hearing her father's name, Del slowly rose to her feet, unsure of what to make of his grave set face. He didn't even greet Dick; he just ambled toward the girl. Every single step filled her with dread.

"Del..." Too soft.

The forms slid from her fingers in a cascade of paper as Delilah brought a hand to her mouth. She was already shaking her head. "No. No, no, _no_."

Standing there, all Bruce could do was swallow the knot that hung in his throat. He had no choice but to watch his daughter's chest heave as she tried to fight against the onslaught of emotions. Tim was gathering the papers she dropped, he managed to keep his head down, but his face was ashen.

The life they had fought so hard to save…was gone.


	14. Jason

**A/N: ** Here's the next one. Took a little longer than I thought. It was running a little long on me. And the fact that I've written this chapter a couple times now probably doesn't help. (Darn computer.) I hope you guys like this one! It's 2:30 in the morning and now I'm going to drag myself to bed. With any luck chapter 15 will be early! (A lot going on in that one, you'll get the gist I'm sure.)

* * *

><p><em>Jason<em>. Only a handful of good moments even exist between us. Such small things, things a then fourteen-year-old boy didn't know how to treasure. Or for that matter, a four year old would know to miss. There was no love lost between the pair of us. At times I'm sure we loved to hate one another. Almost as if that was a game in itself.

But I'm going to tell you a secret, a secret I'm sure Jason thought he had kept to himself. Despite all the animosity, the terrible words we said to each other or even the agonizing silences, Jason always looked out for me. Of course, looking back on it now, it seems as plain as day. But guilt often speaks volumes when nothing is being said at all.

My first December at Wayne Manor was the coldest I've ever known. I remember feeling excited as I stood there shivering at my window, watching the snow as it sparkled in the breaking light. To my four year old self, it was a winter wonderland made of big fat snow snowflakes and gleaming ice. Through the leafless trees I could see the glint of the ice on the pond, and just like that I was with my mother again.

I could feel her hands on mine; I could feel the cold nipping at my nose. If I closed my eyes at just the right moment, I could still feel that ticklish feeling of glee fluttering around in my stomach when she would spin me in circles.

The memories were all it took to get me rifling through my closet for my ice skates. I crept from my room, finding my way in dusky light, trying with all my might to keep from making a sound. I crouched on the staircase, watching the shadows flicker across the light that spilled from the kitchen. _Alfred_. I tiptoed down the stairs, shoes in one hand, and the ice skates over my shoulder. The second my feet touched the floor I made a dash for the door. I stood there with the knob in my hands, so sure that Alfred would catch me when I didn't hear the sound of dishes clinking anymore. But just as soon as the activity stopped, the soft clamor began again. The knob twisted soundlessly beneath my gloves. The instant the door was open wide enough I slid out into the icy world, with none the wiser.

I was clear. Pushing my feet into my boots, I all but plowed my way into the fresh drifts of snow, twisting and twirling as if I were nothing more than a snow flake myself drifting down to this frozen world. When I was far enough away from the house, I plopped down right there, feeling my body sink in the icy fluff. Above me there was nothing but clouds and the swirls of flakes that floated through the air. I was so fixated on the little specks, that when I felt someone nudge me with the toe of their boot, I jumped.

"Seriously, Pipsqueak?" Jason's jeans were damp up to his knees. Even in this twilight, I could tell that his hands and ears were red and raggedy. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

I flopped back down in the snow. "What's it look like?" I asked snippily, bringing my arms up and down to my sides, feeling the snow compact beneath me. Jason just tilted his head at me, watching me as I peeled myself off the ground to inspect my handiwork.

"Needs horns."

"Nuh-uh! Make your own!" I told him, shoving him away when he bent down to doodle in the snow. For a long moment he just stood there and stared at me.

"Like this." I said, flopping down into a fresh canvas of snow. The boy sighed, and turned away, I was certain he'd march himself right back to the house, leaving me in peace, but he just stood there, staring at the snow covered ground. When he finally slumped down, I couldn't help it, I think I grinned at the sky.

"This is stupid. You know that, right?"

"So…you're doing something stupid, what else is new?" The second the words left me in little wispy clouds, I was hit in the face with a clump of mushy snow. Instinct told me to retaliate, even if my hands could only hold a quarter of what he threw at me. Needless to say, when the snow hit his coat, it sounded like nothing more than rain on a canvas.

"Weak." He called, tossing more snow in my direction. I don't know how long we carried on like throwing miscellaneous snowballs as the sound of our coats sliding across the snow filled the silence.

I was dusting myself off, trying to ignore the feeling of snow melting underneath my jacket. Jason was just standing there, staring at the ground, the fresh snowfall powdering hair. I could see the scorn rolling across his face as he eyed the shape his body left behind. He immediately stomped across it.

"I can't make angels." He said, the bitterness dripping from his voice like poison. He started stalking his way back toward the manor, and I, I could only stand there, watching him grow smaller the further he wandered away, unsure of what to make of his display. When I couldn't see him anymore, I forced myself into the trees, leaving our imprints there in the slush as I tried to shake it off.

The second I slid onto the ice, Jason was forgotten. The wind was nibbling on my ears, as I glided across the surface. Unlike the places I was used to, the ice wasn't smooth as glass. It was bumpy and ridged beneath my blades. But I continued anyway, shakily catching myself when I thought I was going to hit the ice face first.

I could imagine her with me. It was as if I was chasing her ghost around that pond, tricking myself into seeing her when a ray of clouded light would slip through the barren branches. The air was enough to make my throat ache, if I slowed down I'm sure I would have noticed how numb my face and hands were feeling. I should have stopped long ago, but the bliss…I couldn't let it go. I didn't want to. I hadn't let myself be happy in those last few months, and now it was just overwhelming. But as my delight grew, so did my over confidence. All it took was a simple stumble to remind me what my recklessness wrought.

I don't remember what it felt like when I hit the ice. I do remember the prick of panic I felt when I heard the ice begin to crack. "No." I slowly wobbled to my feet, unsure of how to move, now that the smooth surface was splintering beneath me. I remember trying to edge my way toward the shore, but then the ice gave away completely. I don't even think I had time to scream.

My breath seemed to leave me instantly when I fell into the water's icy grasp. It was if I was being stabbed over and over. No matter how I struggled to reach the light that pierced through ice, the water just got darker and darker. My skate was tangled in the debris on the pond floor, and no matter how I pulled I couldn't yank it free. My lungs burned, begging me to take a breath. As the last bubble burst from me, a gray sort of light broke into the darkness.

I don't remember Jason cutting the laces of my boot, I just remember him pushing me toward the surface. He shoved me back through the opening, letting my lungs take a deep ragged breath. Before I knew it, he was lifting me out of the water before climbing out himself. All I could do was sit there and cough as I spat up water.

"You little idiot!" He snapped at me, biting on his lips to keep his teeth from chattering.

Jason forced me to my feet and started pushing me toward the house. I was still stumbling in the snow when I heard a clatter from inside. Alfred came flying out the door. "Good Heavens!" He cried, snatching me up. Jason wasn't behind me; he was nowhere to be seen.

"What were you doing out there?!"

"J-just s-s-skating." I stammered, trying to control my shivering. I was shaking so hard it made my muscles ache. Alfred threw yet another blanket on top of me.

"Stick another blanket on her and you're going to suffocate the squirt."

I eyed Jason as he moseyed into the living room and threw himself on the couch. His clothes were dry; his hair was damp and smelling of soap. Alfred only scoffed at him. "I'm going to fetch some warm water bottles. Don't move from this spot." He instructed, pointing his bony finger at the floor. The second he left the room, I reared my head up at the boy, feeling the heat of fire lick the side of my face.

"You-"

He just pressed his finger to his lips. The universal sign for one to keep their trap shut. He saved my life and it was our secret to keep. Whether he was doing it to save me or himself, I never knew. I didn't have the chance to ask.

"What's going on in here?"

I kept my eyes forward, watching my clothes drip as they hung by the fire. "Hell if I know, ask Alfred." He's been burying her in blankets." I heard Jason grumble. I didn't have to hear my father's footsteps to know he was walking toward me.

"Delilah…"

"I s-s-s-saw t-the pound was f-frozen." I sputtered, watching the red and yellow hues of the flames melt together, sending sparks up into the air.

"Apparently, Miss Wayne decided to go ice skating." Alfred added, toting a couple of warm water bottles. "At 6 in the morning." He made short work of putting them in the blankets with me.

"I f-fell and it broke." I managed, trying not to jerk my head away when my father reached over and grabbed my chin so I would have no choice but to look at him.

"It's a miracle she was able to get herself out." Alfred said, tossing another log on the fire for good measure.

"I g-grabbed the ice when…" I bit down, as my teeth clacked together, trying to make sure I didn't try to look in Jason's direction. My first lie and it was felt no less guilty.

"Why? Why did you sneak out like that? Why didn't you wait?" He let my chin go and all I could do was stare at my hands, stare at the white scars that wrapped around my fingers. "I-I-" I just my head. "Mama used t-to I-" I just sat there and shook, I couldn't even string a few sentences together, I finally just gave up and shrugged.

"Stupid, Stupid Kid. You could have drowned! Tell me, tell me you understand that."

I just sat there blinking at him, not realizing I was tearing up and until he pressed my head into his chest. "_Don't ever_ leave this house without letting one of us know." I could feel the words humming from his chest before I heard them with my ears. All I could do was sit there and nod, watching Jason through the blur of my tears. I kept his secret, I owed him that. Hell, I owed him my life. I still do.

* * *

><p>"God of all mystery, whose ways are beyond understanding,<p>

lead us, who grieve at this untimely death,

to a new and deeper faith in your love…"

Delilah kept her head bowed, trying to keep her eyes on the fallen leaves at her feet. The trees had shed them quickly this year, leaving a carpet of red, orange and yellow foliage scattered among the headstones.

"…which brought your only Son Jesus

through death into resurrection life.

We make our prayer in Jesus' name.

Amen."

"Amen." The girl whispered, letting her eyes fall on small black casket. Even now, in this flock of black attire and tears, it felt so surreal. He was only eight. Had she not been sandwiched between her father and Dick, she might have sunk to the soggy earth. _I'm dreaming, I have to be…_

Delilah closed her eyes, listening to the wind hiss through the bare branches over their heads leaving a mournful sound howling at her ears. Only when she felt a soft tug on the hem of her coat did the girl open her eyes, forcing herself to look down at Sissy Collins.

The girl eased herself down to kneel, hesitating for the space of a breath when the little thing threw her thin arms around Del's neck. _I'm sorry._ But the words were trivial and bitter. All she could do was hold the tiny body close to her as she pulled herself up from her knees, well aware that Mr. Collins was watching her every move.

With the little thing's wet cheeks pressed into her neck, the teen was begging for the right words to come to her, but perhaps there was nothing one could say. She simply took the edges of the girl's scarf and dabbed the tears off her face. But when the child turned and did the same to Del, the teen was sure she couldn't breathe. "Thank you for that." She whispered, giving her one more squeeze as the girl's father approached to collect her. It was almost as if the man was coming to snatch his child from the jaws of wolves.

Mr. Collins couldn't even look Del in the eye; he simply scooped up his daughter, and thanked them for coming. All the girl could do was stare at the man's back as he stalked his way across the graveyard, back into the arms of his family. He never gave the Wayne's a second glance.

"He blames me…doesn't he?" She whispered, when her father turned her in the other direction, pulling her eyes away from the sight of the tiny coffin as it was lowered into the earth.

"He's just grieving; it's a lot to process. Children aren't meant to die before their parents."

_You know all about that, don't you, Dad?_ Del bit the words back, only giving her father a glance. Snagging his hand, she gave the chilly thing a squeeze, saying nothing as he squeezed back. When the boys started for the car, she paused.

"I'm…I'm going to walk home. I need to clear my head."

All Bruce could do was nod to her. "Don't make me come looking for you." He said ducking in the car after Damian worked himself in with his crutches.

"Do you want me to-"

The girl shook her head. "I'll be okay, Dick, but thank you." He seemed to hesitate, but he nodded and slid into the passenger seat. Only when she couldn't see the taillights anymore did she turn to the emptying graveyard.

For a while the girl simply sat there by her mother's marker, watching dirt being thrown over Max Collins' casket a shovel full at a time. She couldn't look away, no matter how hard she tried. "You didn't have to stay, Tim." She said quietly, listening to the grass rustle behind her, she only looked away to glance at the yellow tulip that had fallen by her foot.

"Ouch."

_That voice…_

For a long moment, the girl only stared up at him, blinking her big blue eyes. His hair was dark, like Tim's but everything else was all wrong. His eyes were blue, and he was definitely too tall. Delilah pulled herself to her feet, rising slowly as she tucked the stray hairs that whipped across her face behind her ear.

"Jason…" She took a step back, not wanting to be trapped between him and her mother's headstone. He should have looked like a young man in his late twenties, just like Dick, but what she saw before her looked like a young man who was barley twenty at all.

"Hey, Pipsqueak."

"What are you- Did you-" She choked on the words, trying to keep her emotions in check when he showed her his empty palms.

"No." He said quickly, snatching her by the arm when she tried to storm off in the other direction. Del twisted, hitting his chest to keep from falling. "I didn't do this. I swear." The words came out of his mouth like a confession. "I don't kill kids." When he felt her arms slide around him, he was utterly still, not quite sure what to do with the show of affection until he just gave up and let his arms collapse around her, trying not to get lost in the warmth of her breath as it puffed against his shirt.

"But you _do_ kill…" She said evenly, pulling away from him. She could only watch him as he reached into his coat to retrieve his guns, only they weren't there. They were in her hands.

"Cute." He grumbled. "Couldn't just hug a guy, could you?"

When he reached to grab them from her, he twisted the guns in her hands. It gave the girl enough of an opportunity to squeeze the release latches and rip off the slides, effectively dismantling them. Delilah wasted no time and hurled the metal pieces.

"That's just mean." Jason told her, wincing when he heard one splash into a water feature that was somewhere behind him. Del on the other hand was marching away from him, squeezing her fists so hard she could feel her nails digging into her palms.

"Get away from me." She warned, listening to his footsteps as he jogged after her.

"Wait! I need you to hear me out." The second his fingers dug into her shoulder, Del spun on her heel. He was too close to effectively duck her swing.

"Right…like you gave Sam a chance?!" She cried, watching him rub his cheek. "You beat her!"

"That wasn't me; I only took her from her room…" Jason paused, watching the color fade from Delilah's face. "Wait, this isn't coming out right-"

"My best friend was stolen from her home in the middle of the night and beaten within an inch of her life. She's lost the use of her kidneys." Delilah snapped. "So what if you didn't do it. That doesn't mean shit to me." The girl paused, letting her hands slap to her sides. "You let it happen, Jason."

"I didn't have a choice."

"BULLSHIT! There's always a choice!" She shouted, "Like right now. I'm making the choice to leave before I bash your fucking ribs in." Before she could utter another word, Del whipped herself in the other direction, determined to walk away.

"You sound like _him_."

"Good!" She called out without even looking back. She had her eyes locked on the cemetery gate when she heard his hurried footsteps behind her once more. She immediately stepped out of her heels, paying no mind when the damp ground caused the bottoms of her feet to feel numb. The second she could feel his shadow she twisted toward him with a roundhouse kick. He caught her foot with a smack, and swept her leg out from under her.

"Don't. You'll trigger it." He said, letting her go the second her body hit the ground. But she was already rolling over and back up on her feet. It was already too late to stop. He went at her.

* * *

><p>Tim had his icy hands jammed into the pockets of his coat as he trailed around the wispy bare trees that lined the back of cemetery. He had tried; God knows he had tried to stay for the entirety of Max's funeral. He just…couldn't. It wasn't like Timothy Drake had never felt the reverberations of death before.<p>

His own mother had been taken from this world way before her time. But never had he seen it in such gory detail. Closing his eyes, he could still see the fear shining in the boy's eyes; he could still hear the blood gurgling in his throat. Jesus Christ. And someone was making this happen? The thought had him clenching his fingers into a fist.

"_BULLSHIT! There's always a choice!"_

The echoing shout had the teen's head popping up. He knew that voice, the thought was all but dragging him down the hill. When he spotted Delilah and some unknown assailant trading blows, he found himself jumping over the head stones trying to get to the bottom of the hill.

_He moves like an assassin_. The thought was a damning one indeed. After all, Del only had a handful of practices with the little Demon Spawn under her belt. It wasn't enough to mirror him or match him. He wasn't a ten year old boy that was closer to her height. Jason was a six foot man who most definitely outweighed her. And the fact she was doing this barefoot and in slacks…that didn't make things any easier. At least she was a bit more agile than him. But it was the only card she had to play.

It was taking everything she had just to block his blows. "No wonder Damian shish-kabobed your ass." Del hissed ducking under his foot when he kicked out at her. It certainly would have been easier, but having a weapon in her hands would be all too tempting.

Her hands caught his other foot as he spun around again, this time the girl hit the dirt, knocking his leg out from under him. When Jason hit the ground with a thud, the girl pulled herself from her crouch, watching him leap back to his feet.

"What? No snarky comments? No banter? That's not like you." She breathed, sliding her stance back. But Jason never replied. Looking at him, Del saw nothing. Like the night on the rooftop, his eyes were dead. His face was blank. _You'll trigger it_. Is this what he meant?

When he came at her she veered back, aware that he had drove her in a direction she didn't want to go. He was corralling her against the fence. _Fuck._ She was trying not to think about the rocks jabbing her feet, as she dodge his next swing. "There's always a choice. Make the choice!" She cried, taking a step back to put some space between them, but now there were bars at her back. "Come on, Jason! Whatever this is, you're letting it control you! "

Del grabbed the bars behind her, ignoring how her skin stuck to the cold metal. She was preparing to pull her legs up so she could knock him back when he was all but taken out from the side. Del pulled herself from the fence, paying no mind when she felt her sticking flesh rip from her fingers. Tim had knocked him flat.

Jason wasted no time to get up. He swung and kicked, all the while Tim was evading him, filling the cemetery with the sound of their contact. "JASON!" He flinched, but it was enough for Tim to launch off of the top of a headstone and roundhouse the man, causing his head to snap back into a tree. When Jason's body slid to the ground, Delilah was running, feeling the pine needles and burs of the over grown brush cling to her.

"Delilah, wait!" Tim snapped, hopping off of the tombstone when the girl crouched by the man's side.

But Del didn't even shoot him a glance; she simply ran her fingers over Jason's skull. Nothing there. "He knocked you out cold." She told him as she checked his vitals with the tips of her fingers. When he twitched she jumped to her feet. "There's always a choice, Jason. It just won't always be the one you want to make."

"Are you okay?" Tim asked, working his way out of the over grown bush. The second he saw Delilah's hands he grabbed them, not noticing the wave of surprise that washed across her face.

"That's gotta smart." He said to her as he dug into his pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief.

"They still make those? I thought they stopped doing that in our grandparent's heyday."

"Smart ass." He retorted, but when he went to press it around her hand she yanked it away.

"I don't want to ruin it." She told him, letting her hand fall to her side, but he was having none of it, he simply reached over and snatched her hand again.

"Blood washes out." He said, feeling her hand jerk when he wrapped it.

"Thank you." She murmured, bending down to retrieve her shoes when he let her hand fall.

"So who's the guy?"

Delilah's eyes snapped back to where Jason's body should have been laying, but the space was empty. "Jason Todd." She said quietly, trying not to flinch when his eyes widened. Apparently Dick had told a few tales about Jason.

"Didn't he – Isn't he supposed to be-"

"Dead?" The word felt strange as it fell out of her mouth. "That's what we thought too. We thought wrong." Without another word she crept through the cemetery gate, Tim close behind her.

It was easy to fall in a comfortable silence with Tim. She'd given up insisting that she could walk herself home, instead she listened to his soft footfalls beside her as they crossed the large valley that separated the cemetery from Wayne Manor.

"The scars on your hands…where did they come from?" The question surprised her; it almost drove her to self-consciously stare at her hands. She forced herself to stare up at the brooding sky instead. "The night my mom died…there was a lot of glass. I ended up cutting up my hands and my feet."

Tim stared down at the grass as if he were carefully picking his words. "Sam said Batman saved your life…"

"The same night. He busted right through our living room window and took out the gunmen. He called my mom by name. I guess it never dawned on me until I was older what that meant. I just remember him putting his hands on mine…and I begged and begged for him to save her." Delilah stopped and shook her head. "Knowing that it was my own father all this time… and that I asked that of him. It kills me a little." The girl put her hand in front of her mouth. "I'm sorry, that's probably more detail than you'd ever want to know, it's just…when people ask, there's a lot I can't normally say."

But the dark haired boy only nodded. "Don't worry about it." When they shifted back into silence again, Del was sure she had caused it. But then he opened his mouth.

"He saved my dad." Tim said quietly, letting the sound of their feet moving through the grass fill the silence between his words. "My parents were in Haiti when they were taken hostage by a holy man. Batman was able to save my dad…but my mom, she didn't make it." He said, watching Wayne Manor grow with every step they took. "She was poisoned too…" he added, his voice almost a whisper. "It was in the water they drank."

_What a thing to have in common. _

"I really do want to help." Tim said as they paused on the edge of the Wayne property line.

"I know. I know you do." She couldn't even look at him; she just listened to his footsteps as he turned away.

"I wish we could have saved him…"

"Me too…" But her whisper seemed to be swallowed by the wind.

* * *

><p>"What happened to you?"<p>

Delilah paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching her father pace back and forth in the glow of the bat-computer. At Dick's words he paused.

"Minor dispute with some brush…" she muttered, brushing at the pine needles that were still clinging to her pants. At least in this light they couldn't see the mud blending into the fabric. But the girl's eyes immediately went to the screen. Damian had his elbows resting by the keyboard, with his hands fisted in front of his mouth. A pose she had often seen her father strike. She immediately crossed the space, trying to ignore the feel of her father's stare on her back.

"It's the same…" Damian said, not even letting his eyes break from the monitor. "Found some fingerprints on the carton they came in, running a check on those now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I ran the second test." Her father told her. The girl tried not to flinch when he filled the space beside her and picked up her wrapped hand. "We're also running a comparison test with some of the same agents that Poison Ivy has been known to use, she's been back in town for some time." His scrutinizing eyes moved from her to her hand. "What's this?"

"No…it's not her." She said softly, yanking her hand from him as she turned away, leaving them to watch her when she moved to the cold storage unit where her father kept samples. "2,1,1,4,5. Two, one, _fourteen_, five. B-A-N-E. The code to Mom's safe."

"He's still in Santa Prisca; he hasn't been in Gotham in years…" Dick interjected, floating closer to the computer himself.

"When was the last time he was here?" Del asked, letting her father practically snatch the vile from her.

"Almost seventeen years."

"Bird." Del felt her heart drop to her feet as the name fell from her father's mouth. Could it really be?

"Would he really? I mean…"

"You two want to share with the class?" At Dick's words, even Damian was twisting in his chair to look at them.

"Bird is Paige's half-brother." Bruce said evenly, glancing over his shoulder at his daughter. The girl had her eyes on the screen, her fingers to her lips as if she were trying to process the very thought that it could be her own family that was out for her blood. Once he had an analysis running the man immediately climbed the platform and headed for his suit.

Feeling someone touch her hand the girl jumped, Dick was turning her hand this way and that in the light of the computer. When his dark eyes fell on the embroidery he pursed his lips. "So..uh, what's this?" He asked raising his brow ever so slightly. The girl immediately put an elbow into his ribs.

"Not what you think, and if you don't pay attention, Bats is going to leave without you."

Dick immediately turned on his heel. Sure enough, Batman was already in the car.

"Can't you just say, 'Get in the car.'?" He asked, quickly abandoning her at the computer. But as he started in that direction he turned and pointed at her. She knew the language. _This conversation isn't finished. _With her hands on her hips, the girl watched the car speed off, knowing full well just who he'd be looking for.

"I see I'm not the only one who'd like to be rid of you." Damian stated as he turned his chair toward her.

"And yet I keep sticking around, I'm annoying like that." Del grumbled, plopping down by at table, aware that the boy was watching her over his hands.

"If he asked you for it, would you give it to him?"

Del touched the glass case that housed the unassuming stone. "Part of me says yes." She said twisting toward him. "The other part just wants to beat him into a bloody pulp…if he never gave it to her..."

_Analysis Complete. _At the sound of the computer, both Wayne children were turning toward the screen. _Print Match._ Damian was leaning into the chair when he heard his sister's stool slam into the table.

"GOD DAMN IT!"

"You know him?" He asked staring up at the man's picture. He looked rather pathetic really.

Del didn't even reply, she stormed over to the computer and ripped the head set off of Damian's head, ignoring him when he spun around at her.

"_Talk_."

"I don't know how, but the prints are a match for Nick St. James." With that the girl tossed the headset back at her brother, who seemed to be studying her. "Bastard killed my mother." She spat before turning and flying up the stairs.

"She has some rage in her after all…"

* * *

><p>Seeing Arkham was nerve racking enough during the day, but here in the darkness, it was a completely different animal. The heat from the bay turned to fog as it mingled with the October air, leaving a dense cloud looming over the lone island. The brush had begun to take hold of the statues at the gate, eerie guardians that held out their lamp light, while the earth continued to swallow them whole.<p>

The girl was in the midst of scaling over the gate when something jolted her. The sound of a tazer was not unfamiliar to her. Not unlike the dread that pricked her when she felt her body lock up. She hit the ground in a shaking heap. Her fingers had barley reach for her small oxygen mouth piece when she heard the sound of boots scuffing against the gravel. If it was Batman or Dick, they wouldn't have used a Taser. Not if one of them knew it was her.

"Sorry about that, Pipsqueak."

She could barely make out his red mask through the haze before the barrel of a rifle came down on her head. Everything went black.

Her whole body ached, her head felt as though it was going to split open. But for a moment the girl just lay still, eyes closed. She could still smell the brine of the bay, but now there was a smell of mold and mildew. Somewhere above her, metal creaked. She could feel the light touch of the wind on her face and the cold hard surface of concrete at her back. Opening her eyes she could see patches of sky bleeding through roof. Old ruins from Arkham's early days?

"It doesn't take much does it?"

It hurt to move her head, but there sitting at his leisure on the floor, was Jason.

"You could have killed me with that." She croaked, forcing herself to sit up. Her hand flew to her head. "You're such an ass-hat."

"It was the only way I could get you to come with me." He said climbing to his feet while Del let her eyes focus. Old medical equipment. It didn't give her the warm and fuzzies.

"Where are we?" She groaned, watching him work his way to an old surgical table.

"The old hospital wing on the back of the property."

When he heard her struggle to her feet he whipped back around. "If you're going to try and yell for Bats and Boy-Wonder, forget it. They left long ago." He told her, watching her stumble as she made it to her feet.

_I'm in over my head…_

"They weren't happy either." He said, trying to gain her to look at him, but her eyes were busy, watching his flashlight glint off of the surgical tools on the table before him.

"Nick St. James…he escaped." She said groggily.

"Not quite. Someone came and collected him."

That made the girl pause. "Did you let him out?!" She cried, her own voice felt raw from the cold.

"No." He said, turning toward her with a scalpel. Del quickly stumbled back, tripping into a pile of old wheelchairs.

"Jason." The name came out like a warning; she reached into her harness only to discover that the harness was gone. _Fuck_. There wasn't a Sam to report to. No one knew where she was. She no longer had her locator since her phone was still in the evidence locker at the GCPD. _I've screwed up. I've screwed up royally._

She was in the midst of trying to flee backwards when he snatched her. She swung, but still feeling disoriented, he just stepped back, catching her when she almost spilled to the floor. She felt the cold metal of cuffs as he slapped them on her wrists. With one swift move, he knocked her on her rump, causing a cloud of dust to rise up in her fall. When he stepped closer, she scrambled to push herself back. When she felt her body hit the wall, she could only look up at him wide eyed. _ He put your hands in front of you…think. There's a way out of this._ She was pulling her feet as far underneath her as she could to spring back up. If she could get her arms over his head with the cuffs, she could head-butt him.

With her eyes on Jason's hands she watched him work himself out of his leather jacket and sling it to the floor. When he pulled pieces of his suit off and then slipped out of his t-shirt, the girl froze. He pressed her against the wall, trapping her body between his arms.

"I need you to help me." He told her, his breath leaving him in a small wisp. "You owe me."

"Wh-what?"

Jason shoved himself from the wall; grabbing the links of her cuffs he dragged her toward the old surgical table. Setting down the scalpel, he grabbed her hand, yanking her glove away to free her fingers.

The muscle in Jason's back rippled when he pressed her hand just above his shoulder blades. "Fuck, your hands are cold." He hissed, pressing the pads of her fingers into his flesh. There was something there. "Feel that?"

The second he let go of her hand, she ran her thumb over the edge of the square object. "What is it?"

"The main chip that makes me does whatever they want." He growled. "They couldn't figure out how to control me, so they figured they'd wire me up like a damn computer so they could override my thought process."

"They didn't think you'd ever be able to think for yourself again…"

She felt him stiffen under her palm. "No. I need you to get it out." He said, snagging a bottle of whiskey off the metal table.

"Wait- I've never. I don't-"

"You owe me, Del. I need to make my own choices, not the ones they want me to make." He said, as he opened the bottle. Delilah only watched as he poured the liquid over the instrument, creating a puddle at their feet.

"What will you do when they notice?"

"Oh, I can play along." He sneered, fishing a lighter out of his pocket to finish sanitizing the scalpel. The handle was still wet when he handed it to her and sat on the stool in front of her. "It's not deep. They've programmed me from being able to cut it out myself, or I would have."

"No antiseptic?" she asked, watching him take a swig from the whiskey bottle.

But Jason was shaking his head as he worked his belt out of jeans. "No. So be quick about it. Don't be a chicken-shit." He told her, handing her a set of tweezers from his pocket as he put the belt between his teeth.

Del watched his flesh rise into Goosebumps, probably from her own cold breath. Putting his flashlight into her mouth, she held the tweezers in one hand, as she began to cut with the other. _Don't you dare jerk. _She told herself, spying the rivulets of blood that had started to roll down his back. _Oh, Jesus. _ Despite feeling the bile creep up her throat, the girl kept her hands steady. In the low light of the flashlight she could see the black edge of the large chip. It was almost the size of a credit card. Working her tweezers into the now gaping incision, she worked the thing from his flesh, trying to ignore his groans when it pulled free.

She let the scalpel drop to the ground and quickly rescued the flashlight from her mouth. "I just have to close it up." She told him, reaching around him for the sewing kit that she had spotted in front of him. She quickly doused the needle with some of the whisky before putting it to the lighter. At least she wasn't a stranger to giving a stitch.

The second she cut the thread, she grabbed a piece of sheet off the table, pouring what was left of the whisky, she rubbed his back, aware of the smell of blood and alcohol mixing together.

"There. We're even now." She said, snaking her hand around him to his pocket. She had just gotten her fingers around the key to her handcuffs when his hand clamped down on her.

"No, we're not…" he said hoarsely, rising from the stool. "I still owe you…" He took the key from her, turned and unlocked the cuffs.

"N-no you don't. You never did."

"Yes, I do. Don't fucking argue with me." He snapped, "Trust me, I wish I didn't." She could only watch him as he bent down to grab his shirt and jacket.

Del found her harness and was slipping it back on, everything else was in its place. "Why, why do you still owe me?" But as the girl turned around she found nothing but an empty room. Sighing she snapped up her mask and mouth piece that was laying on the ground, turning slowly when she heard the sound of a cape ruffling in the air.

Del grimaced as Damian landed on the floor, using his hand to steady himself. Obviously his break hadn't healed all the way, but the cast was gone.

"Following me now?" She asked, working her mask over her head, watching him stalk over to the bloody mess that covered the ground. The boy picked up the large black component. "What have you done?!" he snapped, shooting from his crouch.

"They were controlling him!"

"For everyone else's safety, you idiot! I told you the Jason you knew is dead!"

"Stop it! Did you ever think that maybe the league is in the wrong?!" Delilah retorted.

"You'll see. You have no idea what you've unleashed."


	15. Bruce, Batman, Dad Part 1

**A/N:** It's late, I know- sorries! As you can tell, I had to break this up into parts. (Only two!) I'm trying to hurry and post this, I'll be on vacation for the next week. (unplugged.) So I wanted to make sure I posted something. If I missed some edits, I'll fix them as soon as I get home. There's uh, a lot going to on here. Be warned.

* * *

><p>Help. I'm sorry. Thank you. Three things you won't hear coming out of my father unless civility is forcing his hand - or rather, his mouth. In the years I've grown in the Dark Knight's shadow, I've only heard him thank Nightwing once. To be honest, I think it put Dick into shock. My father is too proud of a man to ever ask for help.<p>

Holidays, birthdays, piano recitals and meets. I've felt his absence during all these things at one time or another. And yet, when I see him slipping out of the room, I can't bring myself to feel bitter. I share him with Gotham in its entirety. I know that he leaves because someone's life is on the line. Apologies? I've never heard one, nor will I ever.

Dad's never been apologetic for what he does, but he regrets everything he's missed, not that he would ever say so. He doesn't have to. I can see it in his face when he's caught staring at pictures he should've been in, or the way he makes that tight smile and say he's proud of me for an accomplishment he never saw.

I sometimes wonder what the world would think of my father if they knew. Would it scoff at the penance of wealthy man, even if he's sacrificed the very things that cannot be bought or replaced? He's given his life to this city, letting it siphon moments of his life he cannot get back.

I suppose that's why I hoard pictures the way I do, as if I'm trying to collect a moment of our lives before it disappears into the abyss. It's all a part of the trade off in this life, the sacrificing and soul sucking. Yes, soul sucking. Make no mistake, the city my father loves is a thankless kind of mistress. It shuns him when times are good, but oh, when there's nowhere else to turn, the city looks to the sky. I like to think that there's still hope for this dark place, but in the back of my mind, I'm afraid Gotham will end him before the good will finally rise.

The sound of the tolling clock chased me down the hall as it echoed through the house. In the dark it was another world entirely. For all the grandeur that my imagination created during the day, there was a fair amount of horror to be played when the shadows of the night would stretch out it's wraith like arms across the walls. I kept moving, trying to tell myself that the corridors weren't growing any darker, that the inky abyss wouldn't reach out to me.

I clutched my book tighter to my chest, trying not to deter myself when the old place groaned and creaked around me. Instead, my eyes locked on the faint light that danced just down the hall. Surely the only safe place to hide would be with the shadow master himself.

I still remember the feel of the carpet under my feet my feet when I wandered into his office. In the faint flicker of the fire I could see him slouched in solitary wingback chair, the weight of his head resting in his hand. Standing there on the blurred edges of the shadows I was so unsure, but my feet were moving, despite any reservations my head might have had. Only the painted gazes of my grandparents saw me creeping forward from the fringe of the room. They weren't about to tattle on me.

I could feel the heat of the fire warming my back as I stood there in front of him. His eyes were closed, but by the sound of the sigh that slipped from him, it was plain that sleep was still eluding him. The second my fingers graced against his hand, his long dark lashes lifted. I don't think he was expecting to see a little girl standing there in her nightgown.

"You should be in bed." He mumbled, letting his hand fall as he forced himself to sit up. The creases in his face told me the simple act was a painful one. At first the only thing I could was look up at him. But the second I bit down my hesitation, I laid my book on the arm of the chair and proceeded to climb into his lap. I'd never done that before, and by the way he sat so still, he seemed just as unsure about the idea.

"I can't sleep either…" I whispered, breathing in the soft smoky sent of the fire as the warmth waded out to us. When he didn't say anything, I reached for the book, watching his eyes flick down to it when I offered it to him. "Can you read this to me?"

He just stared at the glossy blue cover. The logs hissed in the silence, or maybe that was just the sound of his sigh. When he lifted me off the knee on which I had settled, I was certain I'd be put back on the floor. I could only watch his face pinch as he moved me to the opposite side.

"Let's stay on this side." He managed.

"You're hurt again…" I stated, watching him blow out a steady breath. "You get hurt a lot."

"Out of the mouths of babes."

"When are you going to learn?"

The words seemed to summon a soft chuckle from the depths of his chest. It was breathy, strangled kind of sound. But when your ribs are broken laughing is the last thing you want to be doing. To silence me, he cracked the book open, letting me settle into the crook of his arm.

I could hear the sound of the cover pages as they crinkled, but when he came to a page marked by the swooping lines of an ink pen, he paused. He sat there, wordlessly tilting his head. Never lose your muchness, and always believe in the impossible. The words were shaped into a heart with their elegant curves. I touched the page, feeling the grooves the ink had left in the paper until my fingers bumped into Dad's hand.

"I know what that says…" I said, turning the page as he cleared his throat.

"Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the riverbank, and of having nothing to do…"

I knew this story; I could still hear the words coming from my mother in her lilting southern accent. So I knew just when to turn the page. But hearing it in my father's voice it seemed quite different, it was no longer me and mom's story anymore. It was ours. Pressing myself against his side, I could feel the murmur of his rasping voice. As long as I was right there, I was safe, I was content. The next thing I know, I awoke to the feel of the sun on my face.

It took a moment for me to get my bearings as I peeked over a blanket I didn't recognize. Peering up at the painting of my grandparents I realized I was curled up to the side of a chair that hand been reclined. Listening, I could hear the sound of Dad's snores. As it turns out I fell asleep, and instead of working himself out of the chair and carrying me to bed with his busted ribs, Dad just said to hell with it, and reclined back. The blanket was Alfred's doing.

I remember laying there, half in a daze as I used Dad's arm as a pillow when I heard Alfred whisper.

"Are you awake then?"

As my eyes flicked open, I found old Pennyworth crouched down beside me. I pressed a finger to my lips, working a smile out of the man. Even then I knew that my father didn't sleep much.

"Would you like to come down stairs? It's almost lunch time." I nodded to the mouthed words, letting him help me from the chair so I didn't wake the snoring shadow master. With my small body in one arm, Alfred picked up the book that was sitting open on the arm of the chair. Putting the book's ribbon in our spot, he set it down on the table by the chair. "For next time."

In time, we finished the book, replacing its spot on the table with others. I reread it once, just for nostalgia's sake, when I got to the blank pages in the back I found ink scrawled out in the white space. If you ever start wondering if you've gone mad, just remember the best people usually are.

It was later that Alfred put a small round frame on the mantle. The old coot had snapped a picture of us. I was curled into Dad's side, tucked under his chin. The book was laying open on his chest. It was the first picture that I'd ever been in with my father. It was also the moment that began my vast collection. I guess I collect them because you never know when they'll stop happening.

* * *

><p>The death of Max Collins moved through the city of Gotham like a ripple. Only one child was suspected of dying from the Zesti Cola poisonings in all this time, but now? Now there were two dead little boys, separated by eleven years of speculation. The tension in the city was rising; Delilah didn't have to see it the grim faces that pressed in on her, holding out microphones and recorders. She could feel it.<p>

What did she have to say about this atrocity? What did it mean for Page for Parents? The place was a ghost town now, lingering with the memories of a child's last moments. All Del could do was hold her ground, trying to ignore her palms as they began to sweat beneath her gloves. Did she think it was meant for her?

Del could only stand there, watching the bystanders began to build as she stood there on the sidewalk.

"That's exactly what it is, it's an atrocity. A father lost his son. A little girl lost her brother. This city just lost a chance to see a bright little boy grow into something amazing." She stopped to swallow, feeling the knot building in her throat. "Page for Parents has been shaken to its core, but we're not going to close our doors. These are the darkest days the organization has ever seen, but what would we be teaching if we shrank in the face of adversity? I know Max wouldn't have wanted that." She couldn't help but glance at the memorial that had built up under the window.

The clamor of questions and shuttering cameras ballooned into the air. Did she think this was an accident or the work of a killer? If she could say something to them, what would it be? Del felt her heart fall into her gut. Even the public was starting to smell something wrong. "I'm not sure what to make of it." She said evenly, trying to keep her voice as calm as she could. "If someone is behind this…" She pointedly stared at the camera. "I hope justice finds their cowardly ass." _Before I find them first. _

The words seemed to spark a reaction on the street, looking into the crowd the girl spotted a familiar face. "Excuse me." Del was moving quickly, pushing her way through the bodies as she made her way to the street. Behind her the reports were still yelling out questions, horns blared as she started jogging her way across the street. "JASON!"

He only glanced over his shoulder before turning down the alley. "Wait!" But as the girl turned the corner, there was nothing in alley but shadows.

* * *

><p>"God Damn it!"<p>

When her father's fist came down on the table, Del couldn't help but to peek up from her oatmeal, the sound of the rattling china in her ears. The sound immediately summoned Alfred to his side. "Is everything alright, Master Bruce?"

"NO!" He snapped, wadding up the newspaper as he shoved himself from the table. If he saw his children trading looks across the table, he didn't mention it. The second he slung the paper on the table and started to work himself out of his blazer the girl knew, he was heading for the bat-cave in 3..2..1.

The second he disappeared around the corner, Del beat Damian to the paper. Staring at the wrinkled page she could see what set him off. It was as clear as the thick black headline. **Red Hood Strikes Again!** Nothing could stop the bile from creeping up the back of her throat. Another man was dead. It didn't help that Jason displayed his kills like coyotes on a fence line. She knew it was his way of warding of the others. Commit a crime and this is how you're going to end up. Crime rates were actually down.

"Oh dear."

"Dad's been trying to catch him for the last couple weeks." Delilah said, sneering when Damian snatched the paper from her. But the girl only looked down at her ink stained fingers. Demon Spawn was right.

"I told you so." He gloated, paying no attention to her when she pushed her chair back. "Though I fail to see what all the fuss is. They're just criminals."

"He's taken everything Dad ever taught it and throwing it in his face." She said, rubbing her hands on her jeans. The ink wouldn't go away. "Not everything needs to end in death, maybe that's hard for you to wrap your head around. If you kill them, what's separating you from them?"

Del eased her way into the belly of the cave, paying no mind to the flutter of bats as they squeaked and squabbled. She knew he could hear her footsteps on the gravel. "Shouldn't you be practicing with Dick?" He asked, frowning at her when the girl ignored the bite in his tone and plopped herself on the stool that was sitting off to the side.

"I saw him this morning." She said calmly, trying to keep herself still when he twisted around in the glow of the monitor. "He was standing in the crowd when I got bombarded by the press." She explained. "I tried to chase after him, but he just slipped down the alley. Before he had to ask, the girl slid from her spot, and walked to the holographic maps. "This one." She amended, circling the spot on the map. "He didn't climb up, I would have seen that."

"No. He dropped down to the old subway system." Her father explained, showing her the veins of the old subway system that crept throughout the city. He was already turning back to the computer. "Something changed…I don't know what, but something's changed."

He didn't see Del looking down at her ink stained hands. Dad, I-" _I did it._ But the words seemed to get lodged in her throat. "Is there anything I can do?" She asked suddenly, taking a solitary step forward. She didn't expect her father to turn on her.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" The sound of his roaring voice sent the bats into frenzy. And yet his daughter only put her hands on her hips. In this light they almost looked green.

"Yelling at me isn't going to fix it!" She cried, matching his volume.

"OUT! OUT NOW!" When the stubborn girl didn't so much as move a toe he snagged her by the elbow and began to drag her toward the stairs. Halfway up, the girl twisted from his grip. "Who's thinking with their emotions _now_?!"

As soon as her words hit the air, she saw her father go slack, but it didn't stop him from blocking the way back down with his arm. "I know, Dad. I know this brings up all kinds of bad shit up for you. You never got over Jason. And now here he is, throwing it in your face."

Normally he'd snap at her for her language, but he didn't even try. He just shook his head as his eyes fell to his feet. "Del, just…"

"Get out, yeah, yeah. I got that part." She said, giving him the brush off. "I'll let you brood," She said popping up the stairs, but when she peered back, he was standing there, just watching her.

"Don't make me come looking for you." She told him, watching the stark light of the house cut through the darkness on the stairs as she pushed the door open. She was just about to step through the doorway when his voice caught her.

"Del."

She stood there as he dug into his pocket. "Catch."

Leaning forward the girl caught the phone with her fingers. She immediately popped the phone open, knowing full well that her father was watching her. Just like the last one, there was a locator.

"So you knew…and you left it in?"

Del shrugged. "Hey, it's handy." She said, slipping the device into her pocket. "Remember, don't make me come looking-"

"I got that part." He said cutting her off as he waved his hand to dismiss her. Only when she slipped completely into the house did he turn and disappear into the shadows.

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you, you don't have enough air for that kind of jump."<p>

Del just stared at the vault. "But you do it all the time!"

Dick Grayson couldn't figure out if he wanted to smirk or scold her. "Out there! Not in the gym!"

"I can do it." The man went for an eye roll as the teen jutted her chin at him. Just like that she was running for it.

"I can't watch." He groaned. Sure, she came off horse flawlessly, she had one flip in, and was working on the reverse when she crashed hard on her knees. He could hear the door opening but he was focused on her.

"There, you stubborn ass. You happy now?"

Del's response was to smack the mat as she climbed to her feet. "No! I know I can do it."

"On floor…_maybe_." With that he turned to see Alfred standing there with Tim.

"_Maybe_? _Maybe_ he says." The girl hadn't even noticed.

"Mr. Drake to see you, Miss." At the sound of Alfred's lyrical accent, the girl stopped, finally turning about. Tim was here to see her? For a moment she stood there and blinked. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Why are _you_ here?" Damian had been so quiet until now, but the second the door shut behind the old man, the boy was up from his knees, circling around Tim with his hands pressed into his back.

"Down, Damian."

"I'm not your dog." He snapped.

"Tim?"

The boy's weary green eyes moved from Damian to Del before he held up a folder. "I uh, was just dropping off your homework." Somehow that relived her. "I didn't mean to interrupt your practice." He told her as she took the folder from him.

"No, it's fine. Thank you." She quickly disappeared through the door. One tense moment slid into another, building a strange awkward silence. Since when was Dick so quiet? That was alarming all on its own. Never mind the kid that was giving him the evil eye.

"Okay, I'll bite. _What_?"

Dick just crossed his arms. "Is there anything that I need to know about?" He asked gesturing for the door that Del had fled back to Tim. The young man simply shrugged.

"No?"

The word had Dick moving a little closer with that simpering look on his face. "Let me put it this way so you can understand. I can make any fall look like an accident, so you hurt my sister in any way-"

Tim's eyes went wide. "No! Dude! It's not like that! I swear! I mean, I like her, she's nice but-"

"Wait, so you're not-"

"_No_."

"Damn."

That had the pair turning their heads toward the boy in the corner. Damian just tilted his head. "I was looking forward to killing you." He said. "She's _my _sister."

The second she slipped back through the door, Del had the distinct feeling that she had walked right into something. "Do I even want to know?" She asked handing Tim the handkerchief he had wrapped her hand with.

"I'm sorry, I would have given it back to you sooner, things have been…hectic."

Tim just nodded and thanked her, slipping the soft piece of cloth into his jacket pocket. "So what was it you were trying to do before you ate mat?"

"Something she shouldn't be trying on a vault!" Dick put in, but the girl was rolling her eyes. "If you want to break your neck, fine. But do it after regionals. You've only got two days..." He pointed at the vault. "Give me something clean."

"Okay, okay!"

"I don't know I prefer watching her _eat mat_. It's mildly entertaining."

"Shut it, Damian. Tim, take a seat. Maybe you'll learn something."

Tim was easing to the floor when Del started running for it. He didn't expect the girl to back flip onto the spring board and flip over the horse into a double twist. Her feet landed with a smack. With the look on Dick's face, he wasn't expecting that either.

"Clean enough for you?" She breathed, making sure she presented as if she were standing in front of judges.

"Y-yeah." It took the guy a second to clear his throat. "Let's uh, run through that a few times and we'll work on your bars."

* * *

><p>"Delilah Bae, what the hell is this?!" Bruce burst into the gym, just in time for Del to miss her transition from the low bar to the high bar. The girl hit the mat with a crack.<p>

"Ouch. There goes the pride."

"Oh, be quiet." The girl groaned as she flopped over. Mat burn. Opening her eyes, she didn't find the white peaks of the ceiling. Nope. Her father was staring down at her with his narrowed eyes and grim set mouth.

"Hi, Dad." Something was fisted in his hand. A magazine?

"My office. _Now_."

The room was immediately filled with tension. "How much trouble am I in?"

"Now, Delilah Bae." That's twice he's used the dreaded middle name. Things were not looking good. No, no. Not at all. Snagging her shoes and her track pants the girl all but huffed after him, listening to her bare feet hit the cool marble floor. The second she waded into his office, the door slammed shut behind her.

She watched him wearily as he unrolled the magazine he was gripping. "Hero: Batman. I wouldn't be here without him. I mean, how can you not respect someone who saved your life? He deserves way more credit than he's given." With that he threw the magazine into an empty chair across from his desk.

"Thanks to your public support, I've been getting calls for a statement all fucking day."

"Oh no." The girl slumped into a chair, picking up the magazine as if it were as deadly as a gun.. "I didn't think-"

"Then you shouldn't have opened your mouth."

"It was a part of the interview! And if I remember correctly, that was _your_ idea." She cried, watching him rake his hand through his hair. "What did you want me to say?! Something generic? _Oh, my daddy is my hero_."

"YES!"

"I did!" she shot back, quickly averting her eyes to the floor when he spun on his heel. "They…they just don't know that."

As Bruce stood there, watching his daughter wiggle her toes into the carpet, it dawned on him that the old soul that he found himself relying on more and more was just a fifteen year old girl. She played the role of an adult instead of a wily teenager. And now here he was, angry with her for making the stupid kind choices teens are accredited for.

"Look at me."

When she didn't, he reached under her chin, lifting her pale blue eyes up from the floor.

"I'm sorry Dad. It just came out." She uttered, twisting the magazine in her hands. "Is it so bad that I support Batman?" She asked. "Bruce Wayne may not…but I do." She whispered, feeling his hand fall away.

"And that's how we're going to play it off. They're going to ask, you know that." He said wandering to the window. "The board will question you're reasoning skills." He added. Even an entire company can forget that she was only a teenager. Del was wringing her hands together when he peered over his shoulder.

"I didn't think about that…" she said softly.

"And that's why you need to _think_ before you even open your mouth. This stupid statement of yours is going to have repercussions."

All Del could do was nod as the silence built up between them. "So, what's Timothy Drake doing here?" He asked.

"He just dropped of my homework…" She murmured, ignoring his sidelong glance. "Why? Is it a problem?"

Bruce just shook his head. "Just curious." Yeah, right. Her father was never _just curious_."Go finish your practice, looks like you need it." The words had her stopping dead in the doorway.

"Oh, like you never ate mat." She scoffed, watching him stuff his hands into his pockets. At least he seemed to be thinking rationally now. "Hey, you can hang out with us, you know. It's not dark out just yet."

His lips twitched. "Is that what you want? To have the old man hovering around."

"Sometimes. We kinda like your company; We're twisted like that." She flashed him a little smile, but when the phone in her pants pocket began to vibrate the girl went on a hunt to find it. Bruce watched the girl frown at the screen. "Weird. It's Mr. Collins." He followed the girl out into the hall, listening to her voice echo as she answered it. "Hello?" Silence.

"Sissy, Sissy, slow down." That had them both stopping in their tracks Sissy only whispered and that was a rare thing in itself. "Call the police, call them right-you can't-" The second she changed direction he followed.

"Where are you? Tell me where you are." The girl was flying down the stairs two at a time sometimes three. "Can you see anything? Okay. Okay, can you hear anything? Water dripping. That's good, what else do you hear? Trains? No, Sissy, stay on the line with me, keep talking, Sweetheart."

Del was half way down the cave steps when the line went dead in her ear. "Fuck. Fuck fuck, fuck _FUCK!" _

"Keep trying to call her back!" Her father yelled squeezing by her; he went directly for the suit.

"She said she could hear trains. It's dark, damp, and she can smell fish. She said it was a couple of guys; they snatched her and her father right off the street. They took him away, he dropped the phone and the screen busted, so she had no idea who she was calling." She rattled, while the phone rang in her ear. But just like before, it went straight to voicemail.

"That could be a number of places. We'll have to find the last cell tower the call pinged off of." That's all she needed to hear to toss him the phone. "If you have a picture of Sissy, go get it. The police will need it if they drop her off anywhere."

He didn't have to tell her twice, she flew up the stairs and zipped right by Alfred, the girl could hear her feet slamming in the hallway as she ran for her room. That had Dick looking out the gym door.

"What the hell is taking you so long?"

"Kidnapping!" That had him following her, watching her rip a photo out of a picture frame. When she looked up, there were three different faces peering in.

"Who?"

"Sissy." The second the girl's name fell out of her mouth, she saw the flash of Damian's shirt as he disappeared down the hall.

"Get the picture scanned, we'll head out right now. Get me coordinates as soon as you possibly can."

* * *

><p>The costume cases were all but picked clean when Del made it back into the cave. "Tonight, I'm Robin, whether you like it or not."<p>

Her father didn't argue. He didn't have time to argue. "You do as I say. I need you to trust me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father."

Damian as Robin? The girl half expected to see the boy gloating when she peeked over her shoulder. But he only stared at her before giving a slight nod. Even he could understand how important this was. At a time like this, she'd tell him not to blow it. Or not screw it up, but all she could do was nod back.

As the computer when off the girl brought her eyes back to the screen. "Last cell tower for the phone to ping off of is on 32nd Street." She said, watching Batman fill the space beside her out of the corner of her eye.

"And she hears trains…"

The girl stepped back as her father enlarged a couple of maps of the area. "That could be the freight she's hearing…" But Del's mouth fell open as she stared at the veining lines across the screen, the same lines her father had pointed out to her earlier that day. "She's in the old subway."

"She didn't happen to mention any clothing colors, did she?"

Delilah felt her heart fall to her feet. "A red…mask." No. No, no. That couldn't be right. But his name kept whispering around in her head. "Jason…"

* * *

><p>"<em>The old subway section by the docks? That's a huge area to cover, she could be anywhere." <em>

With the cave to herself, Del was free to suit up. "I know. GCPD is looking for her, Batman is out there and so is the Demon Spawn." But it wouldn't be enough. Now that Mr. Collins' phone was going straight to voice mail, it only meant that the device was off. They couldn't even reverse the GPS on it.

Del worked her way into her harness, ignoring Jax as he bumped her hands with his head. "Not now, Jax." But as the girl worked to snatch up her cape, she paused. "So…"

"_Oh no."_

"Like you have any better ideas!"

"_Let's hear it."_

"What do you say we release the hound?" The girl asked, crossing her arms as she appraised the curious Doberman. It was an old game to them. She'd hide somewhere on the property, and they'd send Jax out to look for her. A game the dog was terribly good at. And now, such childish games could be a valuable skill.

"_Do you have anything of hers?" _

"I don't. But I know where she's left a few things." She said, digging through the disguise material. First, Jax needed a makeover to hide those rust colored points.

"_I'm going to send Tim to meet you_."

He didn't want her working on her own. "No offense to Tim, but why?"

"_Shit always tends to come your way_." Of course she could read between the lines. Jason always found his way to her.

* * *

><p>The colors had all but disappeared in this strange world. Everything was black and blue, smelling of rust, of mold and of the docks. Even the coat she was laying on smelled strange, like burned leather and ash, something metal. She could hear the sound of boots scuffing across the ground. He was coming back. She wrenched her eyes closed, listening to the sound his boots giving when he crouched. The second one of his gloved fingers touched her shoulder she shot backwards, smacking her back on the wall behind her.<p>

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said. But it didn't stop the heaving sobs from billowing up from her chest. "I promise. Here, look, I brought you something, you could really use a drink right?" When the child nodded with her tear stained snot covered face, he put a bottle in her hands. "It's just water."

It was all she needed to know to put the tip of the bottle to her mouth. The cold liquid barreled down her throat like a dagger, but she couldn't stop drinking it. But what if it was poison? The sudden thought had the girl lurching forward. The bottle went over as everything started to come up.

"Whoa. Not that way." But as the girl stumbled in the darkness on her hands and knees, she tripped over something big, and before she knew it, she landed in a tacky pool of liquid. "Don't move."

The child froze. But as the man went to pick her up, she fought back, feeling a flashlight in his belt she yanked it free just as she hit the ground. The second the light broke into the darkness, a scream ripped from her throat. It was a body she had tripped over. She dropped the flashlight in the pool of blood and started to crab walk back when he yanked her off the ground. A scream threatened to rip from her lungs when his hand clamped down on her mouth.

"I need you to be really, really quiet." He whispered.

"I want to go home!" She whimpered the second his fingers fell away from her mouth. But he didn't let her go.

"There's only one bad man left. I have to find him first. Then I'll take you home. If I take you home before then, he might come back. You don't want that do you?" Sissy Collins had no choice but to shake her head.

* * *

><p>"He's gone isn't he?" Damian asked, watching Batman's fingers slip from where Mr. Collin's pulse should have been. Checking for a pulse seemed to be a waste of time when there was so much blood on the floor.<p>

The boy crouched, watching him examine the body. There were no wounds of any kind, which only meant one thing with such a loss of blood. He was poisoned. Lifting the man's eye lid, Batman seemed to grimace. "His eyes are gone."

"What?" The boy reached to look, but was stopped. He let his hand fall. "If they were after organs, they could have taken more valuable things." Damian stated plainly. But Batman had pulled himself from his heels.

"The girl can't be far." None of this was making sense.

* * *

><p>With Sissy's scarf tucked into a pocket, Del was letting Jax take the lead, sniffing through the mud and the muck that had washed over the rails through the years. She didn't have to look behind her to know she had a shadow, but the trick after all was not giving Tim away.<p>

The girl moved soundlessly, listening to the wind roar through the tunnels. It did nothing to stop Jax. Suddenly his black ears went up. If she wasn't right there on top of him, she could have lost him in the darkness. When a growl sprang from him, she knew something was there.

"You."

_Jason._

"Where is she, Red?!" She snapped, watching him wade into a spot of light. "Safe. She's safe. You want to call off your dog?" He asked, racking his gun. He was too far away for her to make a grab for the fire arm. She held her hand down, signaling Tim to hold his position. She wanted Jason closer. "Down." At the command the dog stilled by her side, but it didn't stop him from growling. She took a step closer aware that he hadn't lowered his gun. And then another. "Where is she?"

"What? You think I won't shoot you?"

"You would have done it already." She sneered inching another step closer. "Why did you do this?" She tried not to flinch when she heard the safety click off_. No. He's not going to shoot me. He still owes me._

"I didn't do this."

The second she felt barrel of the gun poke into her chest, Del was sure she was going to stop breathing right then and there, until a piercing scream ripped through the darkness. They both looked in the direction of the sound, it was all Del needed to clock him. She pulled his arm down and ripped his gun away as his head snapped back.

"SEEK!"

At the order, the dog was off like a shot. The chaos gave Tim enough time to work his way behind the man. Del jumped out of the way just as launched Jason forward with a kick. It wasn't going to keep him down. "Go find her. I've got this."

She didn't hesitate. Leaving Jason and Tim alone together was not a good idea. But what other choices did she have? All she could do was run into the dark, listening to the sound of their contact as they wailed on each other.

"You hit like a girl."

"So would you if you would hit harder."

"Dick. Tim's got Jason. I'm trying to find Sissy; I don't know how long he can hold him off."

"_I'm on my way. Bats is on the other side."_

* * *

><p>The man smelled. He reeked of booze and blood. <em>Bad man. <em>The red mask had that right. This was the same man who had ripped her from her father's arms. "If you don't stop that, I'm going to put this gun in your mouth and shut your trap for you. Is that what you want?!" Her screaming stopped.

She didn't know where he was taking her. He had hopped through tunnels and over different tracks. He had just threw her on an old platform, when a dog came tearing from the shadows. The child stomped on his hand, forcing him to let go of his gun while the dog sank its teeth into the man's shoulder.

He swung around; trying to scramble for the piece but the child nabbed it first. What child or canine didn't foresee was the flash of a knife. The second the dog's cries slipped into the air, the girl panicked. If something happened to the dog, she wouldn't stand a chance. She squeezed the trigger. The bullets were going everywhere. Into the wall, into the man's arm, everywhere except for the dog or any place important for that matter. Soon all the hammer did was click. The gun would fire anymore. She moved to scramble away, just as someone in yellow flipped over her.

Del managed to handspring herself down to the tracks, narrowly dodging the knife in St. James' hand when she heard it rip through her cape. Grabbing his outstretched arm, she pulled, connecting her foot square into his ribcage. In some twisted way, his shuddering gasp satisfying. _Oh, you have no idea how long I've waited to do this to you. _

Revenge only begets more revenge. It's a cure for nothing. It only scrapes and gnaws at the void. Del knew this, she's saw its effects first hand. And yet, knowing the truth did little to distinguish the fire that was building in her. _I want you to hurt. I want you to suffer for what you've done. _

When he sank to his knees, Del could hear him wheezing, trying to hold his chest and the knife all at the same time. When her boot crunched down on his hand, he howled like an animal, a noise she was unaware that humans could even make. She ground his fingers into the rails as she yanked the knife from his hand. "You won't need that." She said, tossing it onto the platform with a clatter.

"You and I need to have a little chat." She said, yanking him up to his sluggish feet. He was almost too heavy to be doing such things. But he seemed to be grabbing onto the wall, trying to hold himself up. That worked just fine for her.

"Why are you targeting the Collins?!" She snapped, one hand fisting in his hair, the other gripping his jacket.

"Bitch, it ain't your business." He hissed, spitting blood in her face.

"Have it your way." She said, smacking his head into the wall.

His head hit the wall again. "How about now?"

"Fuck you!" he spat through busted teeth. Blood was running down his chin.

"Nope." Again. "I'm starting to think you _like_ this." She tilted her head at his wide eyed gaze. "Oh, I know all about you. You just _love_ the pain don't you?" She paused.

"Oh wait, no, you like inflicting pain on other people. Different when the shoe is on the other foot, isn't it? I'm going to ask you nicely. What are you doing with the Collins? What's your end game?"

"If it's the brat you want, take her." He wheezed. "He got what he wanted." When the man's bloody lips upturned, showing his broken toothed smile, Del wanted to make it disappear. She smashed his face back into the wall.

"'Who?! Who you son of a bitch?! "

"Stop! Stop!" Even though she could hear Tim in her ear as he tried to pull her away, she let go of St. James' coat, and shoved at him.

"Let her beat him. He definitely deserves it."

Blood had begun smear across grungy wall. There were teeth at her feet. St. James wasn't uttering a sound. Had it not been for Sissy's wailing cry, the girl may not have stopped. "STOP IT! No more! Please, please no more! "

Del let him go, watching him sink into a heap right there on the tracks. When she turned, she found a bloody, dirty, weeping child standing there horror stricken on the platform. She had beaten a man within an inch of his life…right in front of her. _Oh, Jesus. _

Somewhere behind her, she could hear Jason's slow clap echoing through the tunnels. "Couldn't have done it better myself. Oh wait, yes I can." The second Del heard him slide his gun from its holster, she snagged the gun from Sissy's hand.

"Just what are you going to do with an empty gun?"

"This!" She cried, hitting him upside the head with the piece. The second he staggered back, she grabbed his arm, and wrenched his gun away.

"This one's _not_ empty." Oh, she knew it wasn't.

"You don't know how to use a gun."

The second Del clicked off the safety and racked a round in the chamber, he held up his empty hands. "You want to bet me on that? I told you once; I'm not that little girl you knew. I'm not going to tell you again."

She could feel the pressure of Tim's gloves on her arm. "You don't want to do this." He whispered. But all Del could do, was watch Jason slip further and further into the shadows. When she lowered the gun, she couldn't see him anymore. The girl quickly ejected the magazine, letting the rounds rain down on her feet. Dismantling the gun she threw it as hard as she could into the into the pitch black tunnels.

She immediately turned her attention to Sissy. But when she took a step toward the platform, the child took a step back. _She's afraid of me. _ Del paused, watching Tim crouch down beside Jax from the corner of her eye.

"Are you hurt?"

Sissy's dingy blonde hair swayed as she shook her head. "You're name is Annabel, right?" The child paused, her big blue eyes wide. She didn't nod, she just stood there. "Where's your Daddy, Annabel?"

The child's mouth opened and trembled. "I-I don't know!" She howled. "They took him away!"

Del lowered herself to the ground beside Jax. The poor dog was shaking. "They who, Honey?" Del was working her arms under Jax's body when the child pointed at St. James. "Him and the other man the Red mask killed."

"Killed?" Del tried not to pause as she and Tim lifted the dog on the platform. She could only watch Sissy nod while big fat tears cut trails through the grime on her cheeks. "Did he do that in front of you?"

She shook her head. "I-I tripped over h-him." The tiny thing stammered.

Del held out her hand. "Okay…okay. It's going to be okay." She offered the words as gently as she could when she hoisted herself up on the platform. In this light she could get a good look at Tim. His face was bloody, his red and black suit was tattered, but he seemed to be all in one piece.

"The second the shots were fired…he turned and ran. I can't believe I let him get away."

"If you didn't come when you did, I might've done something I'd regret." She whispered, watching Sissy wander closer and closer before finally crouching down beside Jax. The dog was whining miserably and yet his nub of a tail still managed to wag when the little girl stroked his coat.

"How did you find me?" Del felt herself smiling when she pulled the girl's wooly scarf from her pocket. "We let him sniff on something of yours and told him to find you. He led us right to you." Del whispered her, wrapping the scarf around the girl's neck. Taking the edges of the garment, she dabbed the girl's wet cheeks.

"Nightwing, we've got the girl. St. James is down, and so is the hound. Red is still on the loose."

"_Thank God. I wouldn't worry much about Red. Bats found his ass I'll meet you with a couple unis."_

Del felt as though she could melt when she met the night air. The sky was alive with the swirl of lights, flickering from red to blue. Sissy's little fingers where wrapped into her harness as she carried Jax in her arms. Tim had St. James by the scruff of his clothing, forcing him to stumble forward with his hands cuffed behind his back.

The heads in the crowd were beginning to turn when a woman came flying forward. "Sissy?! Sissy!"

The little girl let go immediately and raced into the open arms of her aunt, letting the woman shower her grimy face with kisses. The second her wet eyes glanced up, the woman wobbled. "Thank you…thank you, thank you." The tears were streaming down her face anyway.

All Del could do was nod, as they ushered through the crowd. Tim let the police take St. James. "Damn…He'll be sucking food through a straw for months." The officer commented. "Your work?" But all Tim could do was shake his head. Del was already moving toward Nightwing, she didn't see the officer's face.

"Collins?"

Dick said nothing as he lifted a bloodied Jax from her arms. "Easy, boy, easy now." All he had to do was shake his head and Del knew. "Batman found his body…" He said quietly.

"Where's Batman now?"

"North. Chasing Red down."

That's all Del needed, she turned around and was cutting through the crowd. "Seriously?! You're just leaving me with the dog?!" But the girl was already up and running across the roof of the train station. He turned, ready to dump Jax in Tim's arms, but the boy was already running after her. "Well, that's just great."

Del knew Tim was following, her, but she wasn't about to slow down for him, the second her feet touched down on a roof she was racing and leaping out into the air. Scanning across the tops of the buildings, she could see a flutter of color. Damian. At least she knew she was going in the right direction. But she wasn't going to get there fast enough. In the midst of a leap, Del heard the fan kick off. It was out of air.

Her body hit the ledge of the next building, but in her scramble to get ahold, the ledge crumbled under her fingers. The building was falling away from her, any second she was sure she was going to hit the pavement, when something snaked around her ankle. Her body smacked into the building like wrecking ball creating a cloud of dust on impact.

"I've got you; I've got you, hold on." Tim. The second he lowered her to a fire escape, he jumped down next to her. She was already on her feet.

"Fuck. They're empty." She barely uttered a thank you before leaping off the fire escape to the alley below.

"Geez, does she ever slow down?"

"_Welcome to my world."_

* * *

><p>Del was racing down the sidewalks, leaping over benches, cutting through the crowds, and sliding across the hoods of cars, all the while searching the tops of the buildings for any sign of Batman, Robin, or Red. Spying the crown of a red mask on a building a few blocks away, the girl cut through the alleyway, trying to make the shortest distance she could between her and them.<p>

The closer she approached, the more she could see. She could even make out Batman's shape in the dull glow of the city. He was dangerously close to the edge. Jason swung, he ducked, he put a foot right into Jason's chest, but the problem with fighting a former protégé, is that they know you. Jason must have known her father well enough, because he did the same.

Her father was falling. Del's heart lurched into her throat as she made a break for it. She half expected him to shoot use his grappling gun, he'd done it millions of times before, but when his falling body smacked into a gargoyle that perched on the ledge, the girl felt the scream ripping out of her lungs.

When she could finally see him, he was being crowded around by the residents of the closest back street. "It's the Bat."

"GET DOWN HERE NOW! BATMAN IS DOWN! HE'S DOWN!"

He could feel everything and nothing. And as try as he might, he could hardly move a single limb of his body. The faces that peered in on him were all a blur, marking on his memory by the smell of dirt, sweat and blood. Maybe that was his own blood he was smelling. He could feel them pulling on him, causing the pain to shoot up his body. The cowl was slipping… No. He couldn't even summon the word. Only when the loud crack of the whip broke their chatter did they even look up. He could see the yellow fabric. He tried honing in on a voice but he heard nothing. The first man to run at her met the Tazer. The second he dropped they went for her, and there was not a damn thing he could do.

He could only lay there, trying to get his mouth to move, as she kicked, leapt and spun in the air, flattening bodies in her wake. He never realized just how much she had been paying to him and Dick. But there were just too many. The moment he was sure she'd be over run, someone in red and black came flying in. Back to back they seemed to work in tandem, laying waste to the alley. The second the last man crashed to the dirt, she was there.

"Hold on, just hold on." She chanted her breath ragged and warm. She reached into his belt, pulling out the fob to the bat-mobile. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"Jesus Christ." _Dick_. "Is he okay?!"

"NO! Go find Robin! He's still up there!" The headlights of the car cut through the darkness as it screeched to a halt beside them. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dick Zipping up the building.

"Tim, help me get him in the car." _Tim?_ The thought was obliterated into a groan when the pair hoisted him up. "I'm sorry, I know it hurts." She told him as the slid him into the flattened passenger seat.

"Do you even know how to drive this thing?" But she never answered him; she simply hopped into the car.

"Go help Nightwing, Make sure Robin doesn't cut him to ribbons." She didn't even wait for a response, she just closed the hatch.

"Don't worry; I'm not driving your precious car." She said to him setting it on autopilot. The windshield guards came up, and her mask cowl and mask came off. _Del… _At first, he didn't want it to be her. But now it no longer mattered. She pulled a black piece from the inside of her mask, and set it to his mouth. Oxygen. He remembered trying to take a deep breath as she routed around the backseat, flinging things out of the first aid kit. Closing his eyes he could feel her fingers squeezing his through his glove and then…there was nothing.


	16. Bruce, Batman, Dad Part 2

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay. It's finals week and I'm in full on panic mode. The chapters will be back on track though! Here's the second half of the last one. Now I will say there is some foreshadowing going on, but not for this story. (I have others in mind once I reach the end of this one.)

* * *

><p>"B?" Oh, that voice, he knew the lilt of her voice. It was enough to make him lift his aching head. "What are you doing here?" Feeling her hand on his cheek, the man could have groaned. How could he have missed the feel of her flesh so much?<p>

"Paige…"

Her lips broke into a sliver of a smile, but it never reached her eyes. "You can't be here." She whispered. As she kneeled, Bruce could finally see beyond her, but everything was covered with snow. The trees seemed to glitter in a predawn light, shades of yellow and pink. He should have been cold, but all he could focus on was the feel of her hands cupping his face. Why did it feel so real?

For a moment he had tricked himself into thinking he was sitting by the ice rink that went up in front of Wayne Enterprises every season, but the horizon was void of its towers of glass and concrete. "Not yet…"

"Paige…I-"

Her lips felt like a flutter on his forehead. "You need to wake up."

And leave her? Again? All he could do was press his hand against her hand, afraid the feel of her fingers would start to wilt away. "I was afraid…" The words bubbled from his mouth on their own accord, "I was afraid to find someone like you…" When the words began to sink in, Bruce found himself frowning. "I was just starting to…"

"Accept that you loved me?" She gave him a merciful smile. "I know…"

"I should have told you, I should have-" But the words were halted by the feel of her fingers pressing against his lips.

"It was enough." She whispered, letting her fingers slide down his lips. When she pulled him forward, he could smell the lingering scent of her perfume. Sweet pea. "I love you too, you ridiculous man." The breath tickling against his ear sent a shiver rippling through his flesh. "I always will…but it's time, B."

And yet all Bruce could do was press his cheek against hers. "They still need you…" she said gently. "Del and Damian especially."

"Del…I've made so many mistakes..."

"You're doing the best you can. But Bruce, you can't keep the girl from flying. You have to trust that she'll make the most of what you taught her." She pulled from him, dragging her warmth with her. "Now, you stubborn ass, it really is time to wake up."

Bruce blinked, trying to clearing his blurring vision. "How?" But her face was lost in a haze of color.

"Just open your eyes…"

* * *

><p>He had a splitting headache, one that was slightly fuzzy around the edges. When the light began to blur into his vision, he began to make out the shapes of the hospital room. In this light, everything was a dusky gray.<p>

Laying there for a moment, he worked on opening his mouth, suddenly so aware on how dry it was, or for that matter how much it pained him to breathe. And yet, there was something soft and warm pressing against his hand. Dragging his eyes to his bedside, Bruce found his daughter slouched over his bed, his hand trapped in between her cheek and her own fingers. _Delilah_. His fingers hesitated to reach out and touch her when the light from the hall broke through the gloom.

"I never pegged you for an early riser."

Bruce forced himself to turn his head toward the door, watching Tommy slide in from the chaotic hall. His eyes went back to his daughter, as he worked his hand out from under her head, trying not to disturb her as he let it rest on her head.

"Usually not." He said, watching Del's body rise and fall beneath the blanket of Dick's coat. Of course that was a half-truth. It was hard to rise early when you never slept.

"That's a good kid you've got. I don't think she ever left that chair. And the staff tells me that she paced the entire length of your surgery. Seventeen hours is a long time to be on your feet. Not even my dog is that loyal."

"She _is _a good kid." He managed, dragging his fingers through her soft tangled hair. He let his eyes fall back on Dr. Elliot. "Thank you, Tommy."

The man seemed to simper. "You know, if you wanted to see me, there is a lot easier way to get a hold of me." But he nodded. "It's good to see that you're awake. It's been two days."

The muscles around Bruce's mouth seemed to ache as he felt his lips fall. Without a mirror he could be sure what kind of facial expression he was making, but it felt like a grimace.

"You'll be fine, Bruce. Your car is another story." Tommy said, smacking him on the shoulder. "I'll pop in on you later. I don't want to wake her." The man murmured, tilting his head to the girl. "I've heard tales of her bad side; I'd rather not see it. She's been like your guard." He said giving a flash of a smile as he turned for the door. "Well, between her and that boy." He added. "Funny, he looks a lot like you."

"My son."

Tommy's shoulders went rigid. "Oh, you have been busy."

Bruce tried to smirk back; there was no telling if he actually succeeded. He just let himself relax back into the bed when the door quietly shut behind the man.

The seconds slipped into moments marked only by the soft lull of a girl's steady breathing, and the growing flicker of light as the sun began to peek around the skyscrapers. In this light he could see the familiar red highlights glowing like embers in her hair. A small bit of Martha Wayne. But he had noticed them long ago...

* * *

><p>He couldn't hear the clink of plates or the soft murmur of conversation as the people at the table stuffed their gobs, creating piles of shells and claws. If Bruce was paying any attention at all, he might have realized that his own food had grown cold some time ago, and yet he couldn't stop staring out the large picture windows.<p>

There were quite a few children darting around the shoreline, dancing and jumping through the foaming surf with their pants rolled up to their calves. Say of course, for one little thing. With her chin in her hands, she was plopped down on the veranda, wiggling her toes in the sand. He could see her body shuddering with the rise and fall of a sigh.

"Is that her?" Bruce only glanced at Dick, watching the young man shrink back in his chair. He knew that these family functions weren't his thing. There had to be a reason, and Dick had a sneaking suspicion that it had everything to do with a little girl in a jean jacket and a tutu.

Bruce only nodded, lifting his napkin from his lap as he pulled himself from his chair, aware that half the table was watching him. The second he slipped out onto the veranda, the pressure dissipated, swallowed by the sound of the sea.

At first Bruce wasn't sure he could move. In the months that followed their very first meeting, she had changed. She was much bigger than he remembered, and yet the time seemed to go by in a blink. How could he have missed so much in such small amounts of time?

Reminding himself that he had an audience, Bruce worked out of his shoes and socks, lining them next to her small boots. But the only time the little thing even looked his way was when the wood creaked under his weight.

Her head snapped up, the sun causing her pale blue eyes to shimmer. "Hello, Mr. Wayne." She murmured, scooting over as he eased down beside her.

"Miss Delilah." For a moment, neither man nor girl said a word as if they were listening to the squeals and shrieks that spilled from the other children as they raced up and down the shoreline.

"Don't you want to join them?"

"Yes-N-no. I don't know." The girl's curly ponytail swung like a pendulum along her back. This was certainly not like the child he had met.

"Scared?"

When her hanging head popped up, he shrugged. "Your mom told me about what happened at the pool." He offered, ignoring the regret that nibbled at him. His own child nearly drowned and he wasn't there. Now the child was terrified of any body of water that was larger than a bathtub.

"What a blabbermouth." She grumbled letting her weary gaze continue to drag along the shore. "Haven't you ever been afraid?"

Bruce stilled his fingers, letting his half rolled up pants hang where they were. "Of course."

Delilah quieted; she seemed to be tucking her lip into her teeth, her mother's own nervous habit. "What are _you_ afraid of?"

"Lots of things."

"Name one."

"Public speaking."

The child snickered, watching the man put a finger to his lips. "You serious?"

"Have you ever given a speech to a room full of people?"

Del leaned back, tilting her head up to the pale blue sky. God, she looked so much like her mother. "Nope. And I wouldn't want to." But looking at her right now, with the sun peering down on her, he could see bits of his own mother in her, the fine red hair that mingled in her dusky brown, the soft dimples at the corner of her mouth, even the shape of eyes and her long eyelashes could be accredited to Martha Wayne. "Wait…" she said narrowing her eyes at him. "You do that all the time! Shouldn't you be used to it?"

"Probably, but it still makes me nervous." he murmured, rolling up the rest of his pant leg. The sand looked like glitter in the creases of his hands. "You can't let fear be the boss." The sand felt cool under his feet, but as he pull himself from the steps all he could feel was the child's stare on his back. "If I go, will you go?" He asked, tilting his head to the ocean.

For a long moment the child just sat there, eyeing his empty outstretched palm, fingers hesitating in the air. She almost looked like a chipmunk with her cheeks puffed up with air. Her body seemed to deflate with a hiss. "Okay…" She whispered, her face becoming pale when his thick fingers curled over her delicate little hand.

With each step, he could feel her fingers tighten. Soon the sand was soft and wet beneath their feet. "Oh…this is gonna be cold…" she whimpered, watching the swell build before it rushed for the land. The second the foaming tide rolled across her feet, the girl squealed, jumping back, but neither man nor child let go.

"That wasn't too bad. I'm sure the Arctic is warmer."

Del looked up. "The Arctic? Yeah, maybe if you're a polar bear."

"Del! You want to play?"

The voice had them both staring down the beach at Tamara Fox. The older child was beckoning with a wave of her hand.

"So, what do you think now?" Bruce asked, watching Delilah's lips twist as if she were trying to decide what to do.

"I'm still scared." She whispered. "But I think…I'll make myself do it anyway."

Wayne let the girl's hand slide from his, watching the surf swallow up her footprints as she raced for Tamara. But then she stopped, turned and ran right back. "Thanks, Mr. Wayne."

He just nodded and turned himself back toward the restaurant, stopping and shaking his head when he saw her cartwheel out of the corner of his eye.

"Just what did you say to my kid?"

Paige was pressing her arms into the deck, her delicate mouth upturned into a smile as he worked himself back up the stairs. "Trade secret." That won a laugh out of her. It was a wispy melodic sound. If they had been any other place, he would have kissed that mouth, but instead the man only worked himself back into his shoes.

"Which trade?" she whispered, playfully elbowing him in the ribs when he settled beside her for the briefest of moments.

"I can't tell you." He murmured, making sure to elbow her back before he turned away. "It's a secret." With that, he returned inside and settled back down at the table.

It was later, when the sun a had fallen from the sky, leaving the sea the color of ink, when the children began to migrate back to their parents, half soggy, covered in sand and smelling of salt.

"Mama, look what I found." In the faint light, he could see the pearly white gleam of a tiny conch shell in the girl's hand as she presented it out to her mother, but turned his attention back to Lucius and their conversation. Only when he went to slide on his own jacket, did he realize that there was something in the pocket.

"Little Minx. I didn't even see her slip that in." Dick murmured, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. Bruce only stared at the small white shell in his palm.

* * *

><p>Bruce's fingers worked easily through Del's hair, breaking the soft winding curls her braiding often left behind. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine she was that little girl again. It was hard to believe that one minute she was falling asleep on his chest with her books, or stuffing her glittered art in his briefcase and the next saving his life.<p>

"Thank you."

When Del began to slide from the grasp of exhaustion, she was sure she could feel fingers gently tracing through her hair. She let one eye open and then the other. "You snore."

At the sound of his raspy voice, the girl popped her head up, her wild hair tumbling down the side of her face. "Dad." The word came out choked and cracking. Before he could even breathe, her arms were around his neck.

"I do not." The words felt warm against his cheek. Only when he patted her arms, did she slide from him, so uncertain.

"You look like hell." He said, watching her lips crack into a smile.

"You're no daisy yourself. What'd you do? Steal that get up from a mummy?" She asked, as he gingerly touched the gauze around his head.

"King Tut. It's on loan."

When her hands wrapped around his fingers, all he could do was squeeze. "Have you been sitting there the _entire_ time?"

She didn't give him a flush or a sheepish face, but rather angled her chin at him. "I think they're going to need to put a name plate on this chair. They didn't know when you'd wake up so…" When she stopped to clear her throat, the man found himself trying to sit up. The second he outstretched his arm, she was up on the edge of the bed.

"Okay, Okay…" Having her pressed into his side made all sorts of things ache yet he let his arm sink around her.

"You must have been dreaming about something good." She sighed, her voice muffled into his shoulder. From here she could feel the soft rumble of her father's chuckle, before he pressed his lips on the top of her head.

"Your mother." He murmured. "She called me a stubborn ass." It was enough for a laugh to burst out of her, the kind of sound that tugged on his lips, even when the girl began to wipe her eyes with the back of her hands. "Didn't you have a competition or something? How did that go?"

"That was yesterday. I scratched."

"Del…"

"Family's more important." How could he argue with that? "I was busted down to an alternate. So I still have to go to the Santa Prisca Invitational, but the only way I'll compete is if someone has to scratch." Her shoulders rolled in a shrug. "I'm, I'm okay with that."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself with the creak of the door interrupted his train of thought. Dick. Damian. Tim. "It's a madhouse out there."

"Did you give a statement?" Delilah asked

Dick shook his head, trying to jive out of Damian's way as the kid jumped to fill his sister's old spot. "I'll do that in a minute." He said, putting a cup of coffee in her hands. Del still had her lip trapped in her teeth when she slid off the bed. "I'll take care of that…you debrief him so we're all on the same page."

"You sure?"

"Yeah…I've been chasing people off for the last two days, what's a few more?" Her shadow lingered for a moment; face pinching as she worked down her first sip of coffee. But when the noise of the hall started to leak into the room, Bruce could still see her standing there just hesitating.

"I'm not going anywhere…" he croaked, winning bob of her head. But as the girl began to slide from the room, Tim close at her heals, he found himself calling out to her. "Del…" A pause.

"We'll have to have a discussion eventually…maybe not here."

"Okay."

"Tim, that goes for you too." Tim's shoulder froze as Del yanked him through the doorway. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

><p>"Hold this for a second?" Tim glanced down at the Styrofoam cup, as the girl worked her tangled hair into a bun. She could hide the crazy hair, but sleeplessness had left its mark in purple smudges under her eyes. Her irises were too bright a color not to bring attention to her face.<p>

"What? Something on my face?"

The boy shook his head. "You look exhausted."

"Gee, thanks." She grumbled, rescuing her cup from him. "You're probably the only one who managed to sleep an ounce."

"Not really…after I wrapped the Lamborghini around the tree, I think I just laid in bed until Mr. Collins' service rolled around." He said quietly, pausing when he couldn't hear her footsteps beside him.

"You went?" The words were soft enough that he almost missed them. But he nodded. "I thought someone should go, and with the circumstances…" His shoulders rolled under his coat.

"Sissy…I should've-"

"She understood." He said quietly. Del could only watch as Tim began to hastily dig through his pockets. "She wanted me to give you this." He said, lifting a small pale envelope to the light.

"Thank you."

"It's no big-"

"No, Tim. _Thank you_." The letter crinkled in her grasp, the paper folding under the weight of her fingers like Tim's shoulders under his heavy sigh.

"You're welcome. I just wish I could do more." He said pausing just at the double doors. Beyond the glass he could see a mob of coats, scarves and cameras waiting just out of reach. "Dr. Elliot gave a statement earlier." He said, watching the bodies shiver and rock side to side as their breath left clouds in the winter air. "But I think they've been waiting for a Wayne to make an appearance."

"He did?"

Tim lifted his cup to his lips. "Yeah, never struck me as a glory hound, but it takes all kinds." Suddenly he was shoving his cup at her. "Wait, you don't have a coat."

"Tim, I'll be fine. I'll just be a second." But he had already shed his coat like a second skin. With him standing there holding out the thick black coat, she had no other option but to take it. "Why are you so nice?"

"That's like asking you why you always want to help people." When she pursed her lips at him he smirked. "While you tame the lions, I'm going to pop in on Sam."

The coat hung limply on Del's arm. "Sam? What's Sam doing here?"

"They found a matching donor the other day…" The words should have brought her some relief, but all she could do was stare at him. He hardly knew Sam. "What are you not telling me?"

"I have a hunch." When the girl didn't as much as budge he sighed into his cup. Didn't they tell her? "Del, Mr. Collins didn't just have his eyes removed. His kidneys and liver were missing too." The same organs that Sam needed.

"A coincidence?"

"I hope so…but it sure as hell doesn't feel like one." He said turning away from her, but half way down the hall he paused. "You should see her, you know." He turned down another hall not even giving the girl the chance to argue. _Please, God, let this be a fluke._ And yet something in her gut was telling her otherwise.

* * *

><p>Del wasn't sure if it was blood or sweat she felt trickling down her back. Oh, she knew she was bleeding, but at least this time she wasn't the only one. When this began, Damian didn't so much as break a sweat. Now? Now they both bled like stuck pigs.<p>

In the blur of her vision she could see someone lingering in the doorway, it was all the distraction Damian needed to send her sword flying."Shit." She hissed, as they both slid to the floor, but the boy swept it up before she could even stretch out her arm.

The swords whirled in Damian's hands, whistling as they sliced through the air in a flash of metal. Oh, he never let her forget that he could kill her the moment it suited him,and yet all the little psychopath seemed to do was humor her in his own sadistic way. She was learning, and learning quick, but not fast enough. If she stood didn't move to plan B or C, no amount of bleach was going to save her gi. She had no choice but to backtrack. Even as she ran for the sword rack, she could hear the sound of his guttural scream. Ripping two blades from the rack, she ducked, feeling the wind from his blades rush against her neck.

She jammed her own swords into the wall before her, ripping herself up by the hilts, she launched of the wall with her feet, tearing the blades free with the force of her twisting body. With her feet smacking to the ground the girl rose, lifting her blades to meet his. The shaking of her body only made her grip the blades tighter.

Bruce felt compelled to rush in, but just before his toes could touch the mat, he could feel fingers digging into his shoulder. "Wait, Bruce." Dick was pulling him back. "Del knows what she's doing." Just as the father shrugged free of the man's hand, he saw Del's chest rise and fall as if a deep breath was whooshing from her lungs. She was relaxing herself, all the while, holding off Damian's blades.

"They've been doing this for almost a month now…I think Damian's been _teaching_ her." Dick explained, his own eyes following the girl when she managed to shove Damian back. In the blink it took him to regain himself, Del worked her swords in between his own. Clamping her blades down on the weapon she twisted, sending the sword skirting across the floor.

"And I think-I think it's been helping _him_. I mean, look how he is compared to how he was when he got here." Dick made an interesting point, but it could do nothing to erase the glower Bruce felt on his face. When Damian first arrived, the kid trained to the point of exhaustion. It was as if he knew he couldn't control himself otherwise. Even now he was still being his relentless self, but maybe putting himself in that mentor position had let him channel his need to attack into something more.

"Don't get me wrong, they still beat the crap out of each other, but she does something wrong he's quick to correct her. I think he takes pride in teaching her." Dick added, watching as Damian wrenched one of his sister's swords away from her.

The hilt of the sword felt tacky in her hand, he had sliced it pretty good, but Del hold her own, feeling her feet slide back on the damp mat as the swords clenched together. Both their hands shout out for the handle of the opposing sword, but Del managed to grab the bottom of his hilt first. Twisting his wrist she scooped the sword from him. Turning the hilts in her hands she jammed the blades into the wall behind her. She pulled her body up once again, ready to kick out, but Damian was already springing back. He had picked up on some of her favorite skills, but by now she had begun to make a study of him too.

"Master Damian joins her for her runs too it seems."

Bruce minded his face as he twisted to look at the old butler. "You knew about this?"

"Oh? You thought they stitched themselves back up? Hardly, Sir." Alfred replied, setting down a tray. The first aid kit. "I do wish they wouldn't get blood on the equipment."

"Sorry Alfred!" Delilah called as they pair gunned for each other, both leaping up and knocking each other back on the mat. That didn't stop her from reaching over and smacking Damian on the foot. "What do you know…" she hissed as the sound of ragged breaths filled the room. "You do bleed."

"A lot less than you." Damian retorted.

Del rolled to her side, aware her own foot was stinging, she didn't have to look down to know the red mark of the boy's hand was imprinted on her flesh. "You should be in bed." She said, rising in her father's shadow.

"Like a person could sleep with the two of you around." He replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "When you're done bleeding, I'd like to see you and Dick in my office." The girl just stared at him, as he ambled back out into the hall without so much as another word. Uh oh.

* * *

><p>Try as she may, Del couldn't stop her body from shuddering in its adrenaline withdrawals. Hand wrapped and back stitched, she slunk behind Dick, feeling the floor change from the cold touch of marble to the plush strands of carpet.<p>

Her father only peered at them over his hands. "Close the door." Del did, aware of the shadow that clung close the wall just outside. Not that she could blame the kid for being curious. Del's fingers sank into the back of one of the chairs, shaking her head when her father gestured for them to sit. Ripping stitches didn't sound like a good time.

"You want to explain to us what's going on?" Dick asked, pressing his elbows into his knees as he leaned forward. It was then Bruce Wayne lifted the papers in front of him and handed them to the young man. Del scooted closer, eyeing her father when he rose from his chair and wandered toward the window.

"What is this?" Dick asked sharply, rearing his head up, but Wayne didn't so much a flinch.

"You know what it is, Dick. You can be impulsive, but I know you're not stupid."

Feeling Del's thin fingers touching his shoulder, Dick threw the packet back on the desk. "It's a last will and testament." He told her, letting his glance slide from her when her father finally turned around.

"Think of it as a contingency plan."

The words didn't put any color back into his daughter's face. "If something happens while you're still a minor, Dick is to become your guardian. Everything, and I mean _everything _is bequeathed to you." At his words, Del snatched the will off his desk. "W-why just me? What about Dick? What about Damian?"

"No outside claim from anyone. I trust you to fund your bothers as needed."

Staring at the small print was starting to make her queasy. Even the choice of the next Batman was left to her. Just like Dick had done, she tossed the papers back on his desk. "Why are you leaving that up to me?"

Del leaned her weight on the chair. Sitting there in that hospital room, waiting for him to open his eyes it occurred to her that if he was to leave them, their world would be in disarray, and it wouldn't just be from the aftermath of grief. Dick, Jason and now Damian would all stand to inherit the life of Batman. Jason and Damian would kill for it. Taking the choice away from them could save their lives, if it didn't crush her under the pressure. "It's a lot." The words made the girl lift her eyes from her hands. "I know what I'm asking is a lot, but I know you can handle it, should it ever come to that."

All the girl could do was nod. Who wanted to think about their only parent dying? How could she want to imagine her life without him in it? It was uncomfortable to say the least. It was enough to drive them to silence. "There's something else we need to discuss." She said evenly, stopping only to clear her throat. "If you're going to be down for the next couple months, it also means that Batman will be MIA."

Bruce came to lean on his desk, watching her stop to stare at her hands. "And with my boneheaded comment…people might put two and two together."

"What are you suggesting then?"

"I think Dick should take up the cowl in your absence." She said, aware that Dick was staring at her. Her father seemed to take a deep breath as if he wasn't too keen on the idea either. When a knock came to the door, the man slid his weight off the desk.

"You might have a point." He grumbled, as he wrenched the door open. Poor Alfred back tracked a step with his wide dark eyes, so uncertain of his master's scowl. "Master Drake to see you, Sir."

"Might? Is it that hard to say, 'You're right'?" She asked, pressing her hands into her hips, as her father moved from the doorway to let Tim slip by.

"You're just in time." He said under his breath. Sighing he shut the door again. "Dick…"

"Yeah?"

"Would you?"

"If that's what you want, Boss."

With that Bruce jerked his thumb to the door. "Out. Meet you down stairs in twenty."

Delilah didn't linger, she turned on her heel and headed after Dick, trying to offer a sympathetic face for the uncertain Tim.

"And Del…" The girl stopped, holding herself up in the doorway with her hands. "Drag the eavesdropper with you."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you want Tim as Robin?! I'm the only one fit to be Robin!"<p>

Del rolled her eyes as Damian's voice echoed down the stairs. "In a few years, I'll be the only one who deserves to be Batman."

"That's not up to you." Dick groaned.

"Right, it was left up to her!"

Del turned her head at that, finding the boy's dark green eyes glowering at her. "Should I kill you now? Or later?"

"You do realize this all hinges on a hypothetical situation, right?" Del shook her head, marching to the table when she spotted her black canvas bag. "I'd prefer it if no one died." She added, frowning when she found the bag light to the touch. Sure enough the contents were gone.

"_Tch_. Right, in your world, pigs would fly and unicorns would fart rainbows or some such nonsense."

"I don't know, I've seen pigs fly." Dick called; the sound of his feet on the metal platform seemed to echo through the place. "Apparently, you've never seen Bats handle a dirty cop." The man leaned on the railing, watching the girl dig around below him. "Del, is this what you're looking for?" he asked, jerking his thumb to the case behind him.

Del didn't even try to catch the box in her hands; it simply cascaded to the floor with a bang, slinging its contents on the ground. "I didn't put that there…" she said softly, minding where she stepped as she moved her way to the platform.

The case hissed as she released the door. "Did you?"

But Dick only shook his head.

"_I_ did."

Del let her hand fall to her side as she twisted to the sound of her father's voice. "It may be yours," he said slipping from the shadow of the stairs, "but it's not what you'll be using anymore." Dick reached over her and closed the case, forcing the girl to step aside. She looked as lost as Tim, frozen in place as Bruce moved his way to a darker corner of the cave. Dick literally had to shove the girl to get her to move.

Del stumbled her way down the steps, suddenly aware of the black shapes in the cave that she couldn't place. The sheet fell in a ripple. "From now on…"

The teen could only stare up at the black and yellow bat-suit. He had tailored it to her in a near mirror of his own. Only the cowl was different. The mask was full, revealing no part of her face. Fingers lingering in the air, she hesitated to touch it. But the moment the girl felt the small ridges under the pads of her fingers she knew the material.

"This is…"

"Sam's material." He shrugged at his gawking daughter. " I bumped into Sam during my stay at Gotham Memorial, she and I had plenty to discuss."

"Did you-"

"Did I tell her? No, but I left that to Barbra's discretion if the need arose. I only expressed that I would like to make a prototype of her work." He said handing the cowl to her. He watched her reach inside, no doubt feeling the mouth piece. "I had a few adjustments made. I didn't think she'd mind."

Del stepped to the side, letting the three boys behind her peer in. "A circuit exoskeleton?"

"Sensitive microphone in the fingertips, communicator, infrared, and recording device in the mask itself. And yes, it can cancel your speech patterns if that's what you want. That includes your oxygen tank in the mouth piece."

"Explains why the ears are so long." Dick said, touching the mask as it drooped in Del's hands. If he didn't know any better he'd say the girl was overwhelmed. Bruce expected a lot of things; her silence wasn't one of them. He moved to the next sheet, letting the glow of the monitors fall on the black and red suit.

"I can't say I've had two robins at once, to keep the chatter clear, you're Red Robin."

"This is unnecessary."

"_Damian_."

Tim on the other hand seemed unruffled, he simply nodded.

"Here's how this is going to work out, and if it doesn't I'll be bashing your heads together." Bruce said, leading his minions across the cave floor. "While I'm stuck here, Dick will use the bat-suit. Damian, you're with him."

"What?! You want to put me with _Grayson_?!"

"I can't let you go off on your own. You clearly can't work with Tim. That leaves Dick or Del. And while I know your sister can keep you in check, I don't know if I trust you two together. So that leaves you with Dick. Robin stays with Batman. Period."

"Hey, I'm not thrilled about it either." Dick put in, watching Bruce put his fingers to his forehead as if he were already regretting this.

"Del you and Tim team up. We'll work out a rotation schedule."

"So Bat-girl gets the most advanced suit?" Damian asked.

"Jelly much?"

The boy's face twisted into a smirk. "No, it just means you can't hack it without the technology."

"As I recall you were bleeding as much as I was this morning." Del shot back, making sure to smile. He_ loved_ it when she did that. Maybe pissing off a psychopath isn't the smartest idea, but it can definitely pass the time.

"ALFRED! ASPIRIN!"

Bruce had just put his fingers to his temples when the alarm on the computer began to scream, sending the bats in frenzy. "Suit up!" The man didn't have to say it twice; he simply sank into his chair, listening to their feet as they scurried around him.

Del glanced up at the computer, studying the young face on the screen. As a socialite her father always had contingency plans for the event that she herself was kidnapped. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine what it would be like to be held hostage by Killer Croc.

"Del! Quit standing around!" But the girl simply reached over him, setting a pack of aspirin in front of him.

"Take these and go to bed." She told him. "We'll link up with Oracle tonight."

He just stared at her. "Dad, you're going to have to trust us." _You have to trust that she'll make the most of what you taught her._

The sharp corners of the packet felt as though they were cutting into his palm. "Del…" Her busy fingers fell from her braided hair as she stalked toward her bike. Even though she had tried so hard to keep her hair pinned out of the way, Bruce could still see the fine dark wisps framing her face.

Lifting her eyes to him, her mouth opened and then closed again, forcing the girl to sigh when the words wouldn't come out so willingly. "I'll be okay." She told him, her fingers curling into the fabric of her mask. Her words may have been marked with confidence, but all Bruce could see was fear shining back at him.

"I know." He murmured, unsure if she even heard him over the roar of her bike. She was his daughter after all, but the thought didn't lift weight off his shoulders. Alone with the bats, the man reached into his pocket, revealing the small alabaster shell in the glow of the computer. Like so many nights before the man didn't budge, he simply waited, squeezing the shell into his palm as if it would soak up his doubts. Something, something wasn't right, and these children weren't ready. _He_ wasn't ready.


End file.
